


give me your room and i'll give you my heart

by FateChica



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Roommates, literally the "oh my god they were roommates" au no one was asking for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-08-29 16:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 106,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16747924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FateChica/pseuds/FateChica
Summary: Mike Wheeler finds himself in dire need of a roommate, so he puts out an ad on the internet, looking for someone to help him cover his rent.Which is incredibly convenient because new-to-the city El Hopper has landed her dream job in Chicago and finds herself in dire need of a place to stay....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lborealis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lborealis/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my next fic! I was gonna post this in one long one-shot, but I decided I didn't want to. This won't be terribly long, 3 chapters planned, but could be 4 depending on how *~*unruly*~* I get in the middle chapter. This is all plotted out, I just don't know how many words it's gonna be. It'll probably be finished by this time next week, too, so wish me luck on that!
> 
> I've been calling this fic the "And They Were Roommates" fic in my head for weeks now, so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Also, I'm in a fic-gifting mood these days, so I wanted to take a quick sec to dedicate this to my dear friend Laura (Lborealis here, @dancingskygreen on tumblr). I just wanted to thank you, hon, for being a dear friend and just an all-around lovely human being. I wanted to post this all at once for you, but I figure you wouldn't mind if this comes out one chapter at a time over the next week or so! Love you, boo! Hope you like it!

_Room for rent. 1 bedroom + own bathroom, fully furnished, Chicago suburb, halfway between Northwestern and downtown Chicago. Current tenant 23-year old grad student, looking for roommate to share expenses with. Serious inquiries only. Please call or text 317-555-4836 if interested._

The text is mocking him, he just  _knows_ it.

God, if it were up to him, there’s no way in hell Mike would be doing this right now.

The glow of his laptop’s screen is the only light in his bedroom, it’s bright bluish-white glow casting eerie shadows against the wall and almost tricking Mike into thinking he’s living in a cave. And all it does is make the Craigslist ad submission page all the more stark and ominous as it stares back at him.

Again, if Mike didn’t have to be doing this, there’s no way he would be.

But Mike needs a roommate.

_Badly._

In an ideal world, Mike would be able to just live by himself, completely self-sufficient, not needing anyone but himself. _That’s the dream,_ he thinks, finger tapping against his laptop just next to the trackpad.

...Ok, _that’s_ a lie. Really, if he’s being honest with himself, Mike’s _actual_ dream is the living situation from his sophomore year from college, when the entire Party lived together in that house not far from Northwestern.

But Lucas moved in with Max after sophomore year, with Dustin and Megan next during senior year. And now, at 23 years old, it’s Will’s turn to move in with his significant other (Greg, his boyfriend of 2 years)…and moving out from the apartment he shared with Mike.

So, now, Mike is the last of the Original Party still single…and now also living on his own.

Ergo, the Craigslist ad. Because while Mike would rather live alone if he can’t live with the rest of the Party, rents in Chicago are expensive, especially for a 23-year old grad student, and there’s no way he can afford to live on his own. Yes, technically speaking, Mike could move in with any of his friends and their significant others - hell, Lucas and Max _already_ offered to let him rent their spare bedroom - but he would rather room with a complete stranger than be an awkward third wheel.

Because to add to it, not that Mike would ever _say_ this to any of his friends, he’s jealous. _Insanely_ jealous. All of his friends are in these wonderful, happy relationships, probably with the people they’re going to spend the rest of their lives with.

Meanwhile, Mike’s still single and his longest relationship to date was during his junior year of college when he dated a girl from one of his general ed classes. That relationship lasted all of 4 months before she broke it off once finals were over, leaving him heartbroken over a girl who he thought could maybe be the one (though part of _that_ feeling probably came from the fact that she was the girl he lost his virginity to, but Mike doesn’t want to look too closely at that, _really_ doesn't).

After that, there’s been a couple of dates here and there over the past few years, but nothing serious, nothing that could turn into _more,_ which only serves to remind him just how much of a loser he is with the opposite sex. Mike’s always been horrible when it comes to talking to girls, especially ones he’s been attracted to. He trips over his own tongue and his feet... _and_ his pride; he never knows what to say and he gets in his own way so much that he completely misses any possible opportunity that’s come his way. Hell, Mike’s last girlfriend took the initiative in that relationship, so Mike didn’t ever have the chance to screw it up.

So, the last thing Mike needs is to be reminded of his friends’ domestic bliss while he’s still horribly single. And if he can’t find a roommate, he’s going to be forced to move in with one of his friends.

 _Yeah, even rooming with a psychopath would be better than **that** , _ Mike thinks, the thought spurring him on as he clicks on the submit button at the bottom of the screen.

The form page disappears, a message coming up saying that his ad has been successfully posted, and it only takes a few seconds for anxiety, deep and gnawing, to settle in his stomach.

What if no one responds? What if he searches and searches for a roommate, does all the right things, and he _still_ has to move in with one of his friends, crawling back to them in failure like a dog with its tail between its legs?

Or, worse, what if he _does_ find a roommate and they end up being a complete weirdo? God, Mike’s not sure which of those is worse. But one thing’s for sure: staring at his laptop screen is _not_ helping him any.

So, with a sound that is somewhere between a groan and a whimper, Mike reaches over to turn on the lamp by his bed while he closes his laptop so he’s not sitting in the dark. In order to take his mind off of what he’s just done, he turns on his TV and queues up Netflix to find something to watch.

It’s really sad if Mike lets himself think about it. It’s not even 10 on a Thursday in the middle of July and Mike’s already in bed, searching for something to watch on TV instead of going out and having fun like the 23-year old young man he is. ‘You should be sowing your wild oats,’ a voice sneers at him, sounding so much like his dad, that Mike tries steadfastly to ignore it. He’s not entirely successful - the self-induced pity party is mixing _so nicely_ with the anxiety over this whole roommate hunt business - but he can pretend as he surfs through Netflix’s offerings.

The entire time, Mike’s trying to act like his phone doesn’t exist, but he can’t stop himself from keeping an ear out for a call or text regardless, one that doesn’t seem to be coming. He hates to admit it, but there was part of him hoping that the moment he posted the ad, someone would respond almost immediately and spare him the indignity of _waiting._ And with each passing second, his spirits irrationally sink, even though he _knows_ it’s ridiculous to expect someone to respond so soon. It’s only been a couple of minutes, after all.

But then, somehow, a couple of minutes later while Mike is deciding between two different TV shows for what to watch, his phone buzzes with an incoming message: _Hi, I’m contacting you about the room you listed on Craigslist. Is it still available?_ The number’s also a 317 area code, which tells Mike that this person is _also_ from Indiana, and Mike’s buoyed by the polite tone of the inquiry.

All of this has his heart leaping into his throat – _someone responded!_ – and he doesn’t at all care how desperate he’s about to come off as he rushes to reply.

Because, maybe, _hopefully,_ it looks he may have found himself a roommate.

 

* * *

  
_I’m **never** going to find a place. _

El’s slumped in bed, back propped up against the headboard of her childhood bed. Her laptop’s perched on her knees as she sits in her PJs, bare feet planted on the pale purple bedspread. With a long-suffering groan, she slides the laptop off onto the mattress and reaches up to redo the messy bun her hair’s pulled up into. It’s something of a nervous habit, something to keep her hands occupied when she feels this way.

El’s no stranger to anxiety - the shit she went through during her childhood can speak to that easily enough - but this in particular is bothering her.

Because El just got her dream job as a children’s social worker and now she has less than 3 weeks to move from Indianapolis to Chicago. Which means she has to find somewhere to _live_ in Chicago.

At first, El thinks it’s going to be a piece of cake to find a place. She has enough money on hand to cover expenses until her first paycheck, so that won’t be an issue, and Chicago’s a big city - _lots_ of places to live there.

And, yeah, while there may be a ton of places for rent, one thing has become very clear to her over the past few hours: Chicago is an _expensive_ city. Every place that catches her eye is out of her price range for her to live on her own and she’s not about to rent a place without a guarantee of being able to find someone to share expenses with.

(It’s in this moment where El wishes she had someone in her life - a partner, a boyfriend, _anything._ Oh, it’s not that El _needs_ someone, but in this moment having someone she trusts by her side would be _fantastic_ . Not that any of the 3 guys El’s dated in the past would be anyone she would want to still have by her side. So this is more of a general wish than anything, but _still_....)

So El stoops to look at just _rooms_ for rent, begrudgingly accepting the fact that she’s going to have to live with a complete stranger.

To make matters worse, her _dad_ isn’t helping with any of this, either. “Honey, it’s not the end of the world,” Hopper says about halfway through her internet trawl for a place to live. “People rent rooms from other people all the time.” He’s leaning against her open doorway, arms crossed over his chest, as he checks in on her to see how the search is going.

El eyes her dad, lips pursed with suspicion. “Wait, aren’t you a _cop?_ Aren’t you supposed to be telling me all about the dangers of meeting complete strangers on the internet?”

Hop rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m not saying jump at the first place you find. Obviously, go and check the place out, meet the person face to face, maybe give me their information to run a background check if you’re so concerned. But you have good instincts, honey. And really, as long as your smart and safe about it, it’ll be _fine."_

It’s way too logical considering El’s slowly building panic and she _hates_ that she knows he’s right, but isn’t ready to accept it. “I hate you,” she says, pouting.

“Yeah, right,” Hop says, barking out a laugh. “I can’t believe it, my own daughter is a complete and total _liar."_

El sticks out her tongue at him. “Go away!”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Hop says, still laughing a bit as he turns to leave. “Holler if you need anything, Ellie.”

“I won’t!”

And now, an hour and a half later, and El’s fully accepted her fate to have to rent a room from someone who’s already living in Chicago. She just wishes that these Craigslist ads were _better._ People either don’t know how to take good pictures or their ad copy is _horribly_ written and El doesn’t know if she can live with anyone who’s so basically incompetent.

(Yes, she knows she’s being snobby and picky. But, goddammit, she _deserves_ to be a little discerning, right?)

El’s just about to give up for the night - it’s been 3 hours of searching and _nothing_ is showing up - but, just before she closes her laptop, she refreshes the page _one last time._ Just to see if anything new has popped up in the last 15 minutes.

 _You never know,_ she thinks, irrational hope filling her. El’s fully expecting to see the same search results as the page loads, knowing that there’s no way someone has a) posted a new listing in the minutes since she last refreshed the page and b) that it would be something she would be interested in.

But then something _interesting_ happens, something El hoped for but didn’t expect.

There’s a new ad in the search results.

For a moment, El holds her breath as she looks at the link - a single picture with the words _1 bed/bath for rent._ The picture is nicely taken, showing a queen-sized bed neatly set in the corner next to a window, a small nightstand next to that. She clicks on the link, fingers trembling, and she reads the full ad copy:

_Room for rent. 1 bedroom + own bathroom, fully furnished, Chicago suburb, halfway between Northwestern and downtown Chicago. Current tenant 23-year old grad student, looking for roommate to share expenses with. Serious inquiries only. Please call or text 317-555-4836 if interested._

It’s nicely written and something about it sets El’s anxiety at ease. Plus, the phone number is an Indiana one - the area code is a dead giveaway - so El immediately feels a kinship with this anonymous poster. And, what helps even more, the pictures are just as nice. _Someone has a good eye,_ El thinks as she looks at the rest of the pictures, which show off the apartment. It’s neat and clean, nicely furnished, a place that looks calming and inviting.

A place that looks like _home._

So, gulping, El rushes to grab her phone, hands only shaking a little as she types out a text message to the number given in the ad. It takes her a few tries to hit on the _perfect_ words to say, but she manages to send something that she feels comes across as excited without sounding desperate: _Hi, I’m contacting you about the room you listed on Craigslist. Is it still available?_

El watches her phone and her heart leaps into her throat when she sees the person start texting her back about 20 seconds later. _Oh, wow, that was fast! You must have been looking right when I posted the ad! And, yes, it’s still available!! You’re the first person who’s reached out, actually. So thanks for that!_

El lets out a giggle at the text message. The tone of it is both excited and a little nervous and El totally commiserates. _Not a problem,_ she texts back. _It’s a nice looking room._

_So, did you want to come by to check out the room? I’m assuming you’re going to want to look at it before you make up your mind. Pictures can only do so much, you know?_

El _does_ know and it’s nice that this person agrees. Also, it’s strange, but El doesn’t at all feel nervous talking to this stranger over text message. There’s just _something_ about this person’s tone that puts her at ease and it’s odd considering that El is normally a little nervous about talking to people she’s met before but doesn’t know that well, never mind total strangers.

_Well, I was planning on heading out to Chicago this weekend to check out some other places at the same time. Are you available on Saturday?_

There’s a brief pause before they text her back - probably checking their calendar. _Yeah, that works! I’m available pretty much all day, so just let me know what time you’re going to drop by so I can make sure to be here._

El thinks for a moment before responding. _Well, how about 1pm?_

 _Sure, that works for me! See you then!_ They follow up the text with their address and El makes sure to copy it to her Notes app, just in case.

 _Yes, see you then!_ She follows up the text message with a smiley face emoji, hoping that it doesn’t look _too_ unprofessional - from the ad copy, this person is a grad student, so they _must_ be smart and El hopes she doesn’t come across as immature and silly. But she locks her phone and sets it down on her nightstand, a smile on her face as she goes about getting ready for bed.

There’s a sense of relief that’s filling El as she puts her laptop back on her desk and goes off to brush her teeth. Because it seems like she may have just found a place to live.

And hopefully, _hopefully,_ her potential new roommate is just as nice in person as they sound over text message.

 

* * *

  
Mike spends the next day and a half after getting the text message about his room for rent in a mood that is a strange mix of excited, nervous, and relieved.

The relief and nervousness both make sense: it looks like he may have a new roommate, which he’s grateful for, but Mike always gets a little nervous meeting people for the first time. And this isn’t just any person - this is potentially his new roommate. So a little nervousness is to be expected.

It’s the presence of the excitement, however, that’s throwing him for a loop. Mike’s not sure where it’s coming from and it’s honestly _really_ perplexing.

In fact, it takes him until Friday night to figure out exactly _why._

He’s with the rest of the Party at Max and Lucas’ house for a casual evening of pizza, beer, and sci-fi b-movies - something they can mock and yell and jeer at the entire time. Currently, Megan and Greg are the only ones not there; Greg’s working late and Megan’s out with other friends, so it’s pretty much OG Party in attendance.

(Mike’s not sure sometimes how to classify Max’s status in the Party. She moved to Hawkins in 8th grade and joined the Party the same year, but the Party had also been a set unit for years before that - after Dustin moved to Hawkins for sure - so Mike isn’t sure how to draw the line. Yes, Lucas and Max have been dating since sophomore year of high school, but that still doesn’t help Mike figure this out at all.)

They’re halfway through watching “The Last Starfighter” (a movie they all secretly love as much as they love to mock it) when Dustin turns to Mike. “Hey, how goes the hunt for the new Will?” he asks with a light, back-handed slap to Mike’s shoulder, mostly just to get Mike’s attention as he leans over Will, who’s sitting between Dustin and Mike on the couch.

“Hey!” Will says, shoving at Dustin to get the curly-haired man back to his seat. “I’m still here, you know. It’s not like I disappeared or _died_ or anything.”

Dustin grins. “Yeah, yeah, we know. You’re irreplaceable.” He looks back over at Mike as he takes a swig of his beer. “But you know what I mean.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Unfortunately. But it’s going ok, I guess.”

“Wait, you guess?” This is from Max, who grabs the remote from the coffee table and pauses it from where she and Lucas are snuggled on the loveseat. “What do you mean, you guess?”

Mike releases a heavy sigh, cheeks puffing out a bit at the rapid exhale. “Well, I might have a roommate lined up. They’re coming by to check out the room tomorrow, actually.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Lucas asks. “Rent’s due soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mike says. “I’m hoping this person takes the room and soon.”

“Is no one else interested in it?” Will asks.

“Yeah, that sounds odd,” Dustin chimes in.

At this, Mike frowns. Truth be told, there’s been a handful of other people who have reached out to ask about the room. But Mike’s really bad about telling people “no”, so he’s told all the people who’ve contacted him today about the room that there’s a serious offer on renting the room and he’ll let them know tomorrow if it’s still available. If this person coming by tomorrow doesn’t end up taking the room, _then_ he’ll reach out to the others who responded after. The last thing he wants to do is have several people come look at the room and then have to tell all but one of them “no”.

Mike knows he probably shouldn’t be doing this in quite this way - he probably _should_ be showing the room to as many people as possible - but Mike can’t shake the strange hope that this first person is the one who ends up renting the room. And he’s really not sure what’s fueling this feeling.

“Ok, what’s with the face?” Max asks. “You look like you’re maybe about to be sick, Wheeler.”

The comment cuts through the introspective mood that wrapped itself around Mike and he looks over at Max, giving her a flat glare. “Oh, ha, ha, Mayfield.”

Max shrugs. “Hey, just calling it like I see it. So, spill, Wheeler. What gives?”

At this, Mike’s face screws up in an expression somewhere between annoyed and confused. “It’s just...I don’t know. I’m being weird about this, I think. I’ve actually had several people who are interested in the room, but I’m only showing it to the first person who texted me about it. Like, I think I might be irrationally attached to this person I’ve never met.”

Dustin laughs, the sound almost a giggle. “Mike, was this person nice to you over text message and now you think you have a new friend?”

Mike squirms a bit at the call out, realization that Dustin is right hitting him straight in the gut, and he burrows himself a little into the corner where the arm and the back of the couch meet. “No?” he says, arms crossing over his chest, cursing the blush he can feel crawling up his cheeks.

“Hand over your phone, Mike,” Will says, holding his hand out, palm up, waiting.

Mike stares at Will, their gazes meeting, and there’s a long, silent moment before Mike lets out a sigh. “Fine,” he says, digging into his pocket for his phone and handing it over to Will. “You know how to unlock my phone. Have at.”

Mike squirms as he watches Will unlock his phone and scroll through his text message history. The rest of the Party is leaning over, all eager faces and bright curiosity. “What’s it say, Will?” Max asks. “What’s this person like?”

There’s a smile on Will’s face as he starts to read through the text message exchange and it just grows as he scrolls through them. “Aww, Mike, this person sounds really nice.” He pauses, conceding some unspoken point with a quick tilt of his head and quirk of his eyebrow. “Granted, it’s not the world’s most in-depth conversation - I mean, you’re just arranging to meet up to show this person the apartment - but you can tell a lot from the tone of these messages.”

“Lemme see,” Max says as she gets up and grabs the phone, Dustin and Lucas immediately leaning over her shoulders to read. Mike just wants to curl up into a ball and die and he has no one to blame but himself. How does he let this happen every time?

He knows the answer, though: it’s because these people are his best friends and, even if they like to pry a little more than Mike would prefer, they all care about him and just want what’s best for him.

“Yeah, wow, this person sounds really nice,” Max says.

“You think?” Mike asks. He’d been thinking the same thing when he was exchanging text messages with this person the night before, but hearing his friends echo the suspicion confirms it.

“Yeah, looks like maybe you’ll be making a new friend,” Lucas says. “Hopefully, he’s cool.”

Dustin looks over at Mike, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes Mike nervous. “Or _she,"_ Dustin says, drawing out the words with a teasing, schoolyard-esque tone.

“Yeah, I’m going to stop you right there,” Mike says, lunging to grab his phone out of Max’s hands. “Even if this person is a woman, there’s no reason to think _that’s_ going to happen, ok? Besides, she could be, like, way older than us.”

“Romance knows no age limits, Michael,” Dustin says with a snicker as he plops back down on the couch and everyone joins in the laughter.

“I hate you all,” Mike says as he reaches for his beer, trying to distract himself by drinking from the bottle.

But he feels a nudge on his side and Mike stops mid-motion, lowering the bottle back down so he can look over at Will. “Yeah?”

“I did mean it, you know. They sound nice. Maybe you really will make a new friend. That’ll be nice. Friends are always good.”

This is the moment where Mike pinpoints his excitement: there’s not just the potential for a new roommate, but for a new friend, too. And with his best friends all wrapped up in their happy relationships, Mike sometimes feels lonely. So his excitement is _hope,_ hope that he’ll have someone to hang out with when his friends are busy on dates and out doing couple things.

Yeah, Mike’s excited to maybe make a new friend.

Of course, now that’s he’s pinpointed the source of his excitement, it only makes him _more_ nervous. Because now Mike _really_ wants to make a good impression and good first impressions have never really been a strong suit of his.

So, Mike channels that nervous energy into the only thing he can think of: obsessively cleaning the apartment. If _he_ can’t manage to make a good first impression, than maybe a sparkling clean apartment can make up for it.

He goes home after hanging out with the Party and immediately starts cleaning, making sure every inch of the apartment sparkles and shines.

And now it’s Saturday and Mike’s at his wits’ end. He’s cleaned the apartment within an inch of its life and now he has nothing left to do but _wait._

Which he’s _really_ bad at.

The clock ticks closer and closer to 1 and Mike’s reduced to just sitting on his couch, one knee bouncing with jittery energy. He tries distracting himself with his Twitter feed, but his attention is continually drawn to the front door, stomach twisting with each passing moment as he waits for a knock on his door.

And then, just when Mike thinks he’s going to develop an ulcer from all the waiting, _finally_ there’s a knock on the door.

Mike practically leaps to his feet, nervous excitement making his heart race a bit. He walks over to the door and slips his phone back in his pocket, pausing only to draw in one last deep breath before he opens the door-

-to the sight of absolutely the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his entire life.

“Hi, I’m here about the room for rent? Um, this is the right place, yeah?”

She’s looking up at him, bright and brilliant and at least a little nervous, the look in her eyes clearly awaiting a response.

Mike has temporarily forgotten how to speak. And possibly even breathe, as well. He can only stare down at her, probably looking like absolutely the biggest mouthbreather in existence. But he just can’t stop himself.

She’s _gorgeous._

Sun-kissed skin, with cheeks lightly flushed; full, pink lips framed by delicate cheekbones and a cute, button nose; honey brown hair that cascades down her shoulders in luscious waves, ends curling halfway down her upper arms, strands gleaming in the light that streams in through the windows in the hallway outside his apartment. She’s about 7-8 inches shorter than him, dressed casually in a pale red sundress decorated with tiny white flowers, the spaghetti-thin straps showing off the bare skin of her arms and collarbones. The hem of the skirt hits her just above the knees and the dress shows off all too well the lithe shape of her body in a way that has Mike struggling to keep his eyes on her face.

But she’s looking up at him expectantly with the most beautiful gold-flecked brown eyes he’s ever seen. And Mike very suddenly wants nothing more than to give her _everything_ she wants.

Mike tries frantically to remember how this whole breathing thing works so he can speak. And maybe even smiling while he’s at it. “Uh, hi,” he says, voice choosing that exact moment to croak. Blush crawling up his cheeks, Mike clears his throat and tries it again. “Hi, sorry. Um, yes, this is the right place.” Mike pauses, thinking. “If you’re the person who texted me about the room, that is.”

Her hand comes up to cover her mouth as she giggles and Mike thinks he might be willing do _anything_ to get her to giggle like that again. “Yes, that would be me,” she says as she lowers her hand, amusement dancing across her features.

Feeling a little emboldened, Mike holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Mike, Mike Wheeler.”

She stares down at his hand for a long moment before she smiles up at him and Mike thinks he may have died and gone to heaven at the sight of her iridescent smile. “I’m El.” She pauses as she takes his hand to shake and Mike desperately tries to ignore the way a shiver runs through him at the feel of her hand in his - her skin soft, fingers delicate, but grip surprisingly firm. And then she cocks her head to the side, her smile turning into a grin. “El Hopper,” she follows up, eyebrow quirking to indicate that she’s mimicking his earlier introduction. But there’s no hint of malice in her smile and Mike finds his heart doing acrobatics in his chest as it skips and flips through its rapid beating

Letting go of her hand is just about the hardest thing Mike thinks he’s ever done, but he finds himself honestly smiling as he looks down at her. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, El,” he says, a little faint at the feel of her name on lips. _God, what a beautiful name._

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mike,” El says and Mike swears that his name has never sounded as good as it does coming from her lips. “And it’s also nice to put a face _and_ a voice to the text messages,” she says a beat later, eyes twinkling with humor.

Mike ducks his head as he lets out a laugh, a move which causes his hair to fall in his eyes and he shakes the hair aside as he looks back up, running his fingers awkwardly through his hair to clear the rest of it away from his face. “This is true,” he says, looking back at her. A pretty blush has spread across her cheeks and Mike both wonders and marvels at the sight of it at the same time.

And then it hits him that they’re standing awkwardly in his front door and that he’s just having her linger out here in the hallway. “Oh!” He steps aside, gesturing for her to come in. “Sorry, you’re here to see the room, though. Uh, come on in,” he says.

El giggles again, the sound going straight to his heart. “Thank you,” she says as she walks in. Mike is immediately entranced by the way her hair shifts as she walks and the lilting sway of her hips and the faint floral hint of her shampoo as she enters his space. He watches her for a moment as he closes door, unable to tear his gaze away as she slowly turns around in the space, taking in the shared living spaces - the kitchen and dining nook off to the right, the living/family room off to the left, the hallway that leads down to the bedrooms in the middle. The look on her face is slightly wide-eyed, yet serene, like she’s pleasantly surprised at everything she’s seeing.

And then she finishes turning in place, looking over at him with those beautifully expressive eyes. “So, yeah, this is the apartment,” Mike says, stuffing his hands in his pockets to try and keep the fidgeting to a minimum, to try and look like he has his shit together. “Kitchen’s a little small, but it’s not so bad. The appliances aren’t that old and everything works pretty good.”

El nods, peering past him into the kitchen. “Always a plus.”

“My old roommate and I shared grocery expenses, but I wouldn’t expect you do to that unless you wanted.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” El says. “Makes it easy since you don’t have to keep track of who bought what.”

Mike smiles, buoyed by the seemingly casual assumption in El’s voice that she’s going to be living here. It also helps tamp down on the awkward nervousness that doesn’t seem to want to go away at the incredibly perfunctory conversation they’re having - like, he has the most beautiful woman he’s ever met in his apartment and there’s literally nothing more boring they could be talking about besides kitchen appliances and grocery bills. But, also, it’s why she’s _here,_ isn’t it? To find out about the place?

“Exactly!” Mike says, pushing past the nerves. “So, um,” he says, trying to get things back on track. “Living room’s behind you, TV, couch, the whole bit. I mostly spend time in my room, but when my friends come over, we all hang out in here.” He pauses, looking at her, brow furrowing with an unspoken question.

“Shouldn’t be too much of a bother,” El says. “Noise doesn’t bother me.”

“Good, good,” Mike says, still feeling very awkward. “So, um, the room for rent is down the hall here.” He goes down the hallway, hearing her follow behind him, and stops on the far side of the doorway as he pushes open the door to Will’s old room. “My roommate moved in with his boyfriend, who already had all the furniture he needed, so he left everything here. Bed, dresser, a couple of nightstands. There’s no desk, so, um, sorry about that. I’m not sure if you’re still a student or-”

“Not a student. Just graduated, actually,” El says as she stands next to him and leans in to look at the room. Mike almost chokes on his own breathing at her proximity and he can feel the heat of her standing _inches_ away. His eyes are drawn to the length of her neck, exposed as her hair shifts with the movement of her head, the curve of her neck and shoulders lithe and graceful with skin looking so, _so_ soft that Mike can’t help but wonder what it might feel like to touch it.

And then she turns to look up at him, a little wide-eyed, and Mike chides himself for standing too close. _God, way to come off like a total creeper,_ he thinks as he takes a half-step back. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” El says, smiling softly, breath releasing in a gentle sigh. “Can I take a look around the room? Is that ok?” she asks, looking up at him with almost hesitancy. Like he might say no.

_God, as if._

Mike nods, almost too eagerly. “Oh, yeah, sure. Yeah, take whatever time you need.”

El’s smile grows brighter and Mike’s heart squeezes in his chest. “Thanks!”

“Um, when you’re finished, the bathroom is just across the hall, if you want to check it out,” Mike says, pointing to the door just across the hall. “My room’s the master suite, so it has its own bathroom attached. So you wouldn’t have to share this with me or anything.”

“Sounds great,” El says.”

“Um, ok, I’ll just...give you a minute.” Mike says as he pushes past her in the hallway, trying not to touch her as he heads for the living room. “I’ll just be out here. When you’re done. No rush or anything. Just let me know.” God, he’s about a millisecond away from rambling, isn’t he? _Yes, excellent, make a fool of yourself in front of this literal goddess. Great job, Wheeler._

But El just lets out that sweet sounding giggle, her lips pulling up in a smile, and the sound of it sets him at ease. “Will do. Thanks, Mike.”

Mike smiles back, the expression feeling tight, and turns to head back for the living room. He sits down on the couch and, safely out of sight in case El is looking back towards the living room from the hallway, Mike lets his head fall back onto the cushions behind him. He lets out a tight sigh as he closes his eyes, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

He doesn’t know what he wants more: for El to want to take the room so he can have the pleasure of being close to her or not wanting her to take it so he doesn’t have to be tortured by living in the same apartment with such a beautiful woman. And the debate over which one is winning over the other is stressing him the fuck out.

Holy shit, just _what_ has he gotten himself into?

 

* * *

  
El’s glad for the moment alone because she seriously needs a second.

After driving over from Indianapolis early this morning, El was prepared to spend the entire afternoon looking not just at this place, but at a few apartment buildings in the outskirts of Chicago she found. The commutes to work from those places would have sucked, but they were the only back-up plan she had.

But El knows that she’s not going to need to look at any more places. Not when this apartment is _perfect._

And that’s not even including the really cute guy who’s already living in it.

 _That’s_ just an added bonus.

 _A **dangerous** added bonus, _ her brain reminds her. _You probably shouldn’t be developing a crush on your potential roommate._

But it’s not a crush, El thinks to herself, adamant. She doesn’t have to have a crush on someone just because she thinks they’re cute.

And, _oh boy_ is Mike Wheeler cute.

El had been nervous when she knocked on the door, hoping that she had the right place, praying that she wasn’t about to bother someone on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. When the door opened to reveal Mike, she didn’t notice him at first - not _really._ She’d been so concerned over making sure she was in the right place that it took her a few moments to realize just how handsome the guy who answered the door was. And when he had just stared at her for a second, like he was surprised to see her, El had been starting think that maybe she had the address wrong or something.

But then Mike spoke, reassuring her that she was in the right place, making her feel at ease. It didn’t hurt that his voice was low and slightly raspy in a way that sent shivers down her spine or that the feel of his hand in hers while they shook hands made her heart skip what felt like several beats.

But what really made her notice just how attractive Mike is was when he ducked his head for half a second and had to shake his hair out of his eyes when he looked back up, his hand raking through the thick, black strands to push the rest of it away. It was a move that emphasized the sweep of his cheekbones, the length of his neck, the curve of his smile, and it was so _rakish_ that El almost melted on the spot. _Cute cute cute,_ her brain had chanted, short-circuiting at the sight, her heart squeezing in her chest as her body flushed with warmth.

So, yeah, El’s glad for the chance to take a look around the room without being _incredibly_ distracted by how cute the current tenant is. This way, she can _actually_ look at the room and form an honest opinion (though she’s pretty much already made up her mind - she’s _absolutely_ taking the room if it’s available. Yes, maybe she shouldn't be rushing into this. But El just _knows_ this is the place. Even without the mega-cute roommate).

El pokes around the room for a bit: peering into the closet along the wall that El assumes the room shares with the living room, trying out the drawers of the dresser, testing the mattress for just a second by sitting and bouncing on it a bit. It’s a good-sized room, El thinks, and she’ll probably only need to buy a desk, even though she implied she doesn’t need one.

 _You never know,_ El thinks as she slowly goes across the hall to check out what would be her bathroom. It’s nice that she’ll have her own bathroom, El realizes with a smile. Mike might be cute, but El’s not sure about sharing a bathroom with a guy she’s only just met. And the bathroom is just as nice as the bedroom - clean and neatly kept with a bath/shower combo enclosed by a plain white shower curtain. _Gonna want to change that,_ El thinks as she takes one last look at the empty counter before leaving the bathroom.

She spares a glance down the hall to where Mike’s bedroom is, the door firmly shut, and she tries not to think about what might be behind that door. But her face heats up a little regardless, brain carrying her down some very dangerous trails of thought.

Shaking her head, El chides herself as she heads back out to the main living space. She looks over just in time to Mike getting to his feet, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stretches out to his full height, looking entirely too cute in worn jeans and a thin, white t-shirt that does marvelously sinful things to his shoulders. El can’t help the way her gaze trails up his frame, marveling at how tall he is and at how he manages to be thin without being lanky. _He must exercise or something._ And she really wishes she weren’t so star-struck by the freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks, or by the fullness of his lips, or by the richness of his dark eyes that pairs so nicely with the thick, dark locks of black hair.

“So, what do you think?” Mike asks her, lips pulling up in a hopeful smile that has her heart skipping a beat.

El bites back the giggle that bubbles up in her throat. “I just have one question for you.”

Mike’s eyebrows raise towards his hairline and he looks so very adorable when he’s confused. “What is it?”

“When can I move in?” El asks and she loses control of the happiness that flows through her, a smile crossing her own lips. “If the room’s still available, that is.”

Mike lets out what sounds like a relieved laugh, the sound infused with a sigh. “It’s still available,” he says, laughter underpinning his words. He reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, hand lingering at the back of his head in what El assumes must be a nervous gesture. “And really, whenever you want. Sooner would be preferable - rent’s due in a couple of weeks - but I can hold out another month if you’re not ready.”

El shakes her head. “No, I start my new job in a little over two weeks and I was hoping to have some time to get used to the city before starting. So, if you’re ok with it, I was hoping I could move in next weekend?”

El waits with a bated breath that she only releases when Mike nods. “Yeah, that’s fine, totally fine. If you want, before you go today, we can sign the paperwork adding you to the lease and I can give you your keys.” His eyebrows are arched questioningly and El wishes she didn’t find it so goddamn attractive.

“Yeah, that sounds good. And I can prorate you the portion of the rent I owe you for the back half of this month, if you want. I brought my checkbook with me and everything.”

Mike shrugs as he leads her over to the kitchen, a half smile tugging up the one of the corners of his mouth. “Nah, you can just pay for the first full month you’re here for. It’ll be fine.”

El frowns a bit as they go into the kitchen, both of them stopping by the corner of the counter where Mike’s set up the paperwork to add her to the lease. “Are you sure?” she asks as she looks up at him.

Mike waves her away. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he says. “Honestly, don’t worry about it.”

El smiles, but it’s a little weak. “Well, if you’re sure….”

“Yeah, I’m sure - _completely_ sure,” Mike says.

It doesn’t take them long to sign the paperwork and for Mike to hand over her copy of the keys. And, just like that, it's done. “Alright, I guess we’re roommates, now.”

El pretends not to notice Mike’s fingers brushing up against her as he drops the keys in her hand and fails miserably. “Guess we are, _roomie."_ A thought occurs to her a second later, memory rushing in, and she gasps. “Oh my god, I completely forgot!”

Mike’s brow furrows in concern. “What is it? Everything ok?”

El lets out a deprecating laugh as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a piece of paper. “I brought a list of references with me so you could check up on them before you made a decision whether to let me rent the room.”

Mike grins. “Not necessary, but thank you for trying to reassure me you’re not a serial killer or something.”

El levels a look up at him. “Hey, you never know in this day and age,” she sniffs. “Besides, my dad’s a cop, so the caution is ingrained in my DNA.”

“Yikes, a cop, huh? Should I be scared?” Mike asks, trying to joke with her, but sounding a little nervous regardless.

“Nah,” El says, waving a hand to try and reassure him. “He talks a big game, but he’s just a big teddy bear. I mean, he’ll probably try and threaten you with a background check or something, but he just likes messing around.”

“Oh, well, that’s, um, ok, I guess.” Mike shrugs. “At least it means he cares, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” El says, her heart warming as she thinks about her dad. “Anyway, I should probably get going. It’s a bit of a drive back home.”

“Where is home, anyway?” Mike asks as he walks her to the front door. “Or, I guess, soon-to-be ex-home?”

El giggles at the modified description. “Indianapolis, actually. I've been living with my dad as I finish up my degree in Social Work,” she says.

“Oh, neat!” Mike says. “I grew up, like, 45 minutes outside of Indianapolis. Little town called Hawkins, you heard of it?”

El lets out a laugh. “I have! My dad grew up there, actually. I’ve never been, but he talks about it pretty fondly whenever it comes up.”

Mike laughs as well, his face lighting up in a way that is just not fair with how it makes El’s heart skip a beat. “Wow, small world, huh?”

“Very,” El says with a giggle. “Well, the open road awaits, I guess.”

“Yeah, and you get to be on the road for a while,” Mike says. “So, um, see you next week?”

El nods. “Yeah, I’ll text you to let you know when I’m heading down exactly. So, yeah, I’ll see you next week. Probably next Saturday.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Mike says as he opens the door. “It was really nice meeting you, El.”

El steps into the open doorway and turns to look back at Mike. “It was nice meeting you, too, roomie,” she says, unable to keep herself from winking. _Holy shit, what is getting into her?_ And judging by the way Mike’s looking at her, wide eyed and a little shocked, she’s clearly making him a little uncomfortable.

Blushing a bit at just how heavily she’s flirting - and she _never_ flirts, so El has _no_ idea why she’s starting _now_ \- El just shakes her head to try and clear the fog in her brain. It wouldn’t do to have her new roommate regret letting her move in before she actually gets to _move in._ “Anyway,” she says. “I’ll see you later, Mike.”

Mike manages to smile at her and it seems like a genuine smile that El finds herself relaxing a little even while her heart races a bit at the sight. “Bye, El. Drive safe, ok? I’d like my roommate to stay in one piece.”

El draws an X over her heart. “Cross my heart.” She lifts her hand in a wave. “Take care.”

“You, too.”

El turns to leave then, hearing Mike close the door behind her a second later. And as she heads downstairs to where her car is parked outside, El can’t help but sigh.

Somehow, El knows that this is either going to be a great idea or a _horrible_ one, living with Mike, and she’s not exactly sure which it’s going to be.

But, regardless, she has a place to live before she starts her new job.

And, for the moment, that’s good enough.

 

* * *

  
Mike closes the door after El’s retreating form disappears from view and he sighs, heart still racing from the way El just winked at him. Naturally, he stared at her like a total loser, gobsmacked by the flirtiness of the expression, and the way she blushed immediately after told him he’d managed to make her feel uncomfortable. But she was still so sweet as she said her goodbyes, like he hadn’t just made a fool out of himself, so Mike figures he didn’t do any lasting damage.

Mike steps away from the now closed door and tries to calm the pounding of his heart.

But to no avail.

Mike’s new roommate, officially, is the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, who seems to be just as sweet as she is gorgeous.

Yeah, it’s official.

He’s _so_ screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, they are so awkward and I LOVE IT.
> 
> Up next, Mike and El move in together and things start to get... _interesting_....


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand here's the next chapter!
> 
> You'll probably notice I've upped the chapter count (raise of hands for who's _NOT_ surprised).
> 
> Again, as goddamn always, I got to about, like, a third to half of what I wanted to get to. *shakes fist at sky* damn you mileven, for making me write so many words!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy these two very, _very_ awkward nerds!

“I can’t believe it. The _first_ place you found.”

El rolls her eyes and pauses in her packing to look over her shoulder. Hop’s standing in her doorway, leaning against the frame with his hands in his pockets, slowly shaking his head at her. “ _Dad,_ it was _literally_ the last place I found.”

“Yeah, but the only place you _looked_ at,” Hop says, trying to be stern. But there’s a twinkle in his eye that belies the fatherly disappointment he’s trying to project.

El sighs and turns completely so she can look up at him straight on instead of awkwardly craning her neck. “Dad, really, it’s where I would have chosen even if I _had_ looked at the other places. It’s just as affordable as the other ones on my list and it’s way closer to my job. Like, 15 minutes as opposed to almost an hour.”

Hop arches an eyebrow and El knows what he’s going to say before he says it. “So this has nothing to do with the cute boy who’s about to be your new roommate? Now, I _know_ I told you that it’d be ok to give online dating a try, but this isn’t what I meant, Ellie.”

A fierce blush crawls up El’s cheeks, making her feel way too hot, and she buries her face in her hands both out of exasperation and embarrassment. “I so regret telling you anything about my new roommate.”

“Please, I would have found out anyway and you know it,” Hop says.

El lifts her head out of her hands and looks back up at her dad. “I _still_ can’t believe you know his parents.”

When El told Hop about Mike and that he was from Hawkins like Hop was, it didn’t take long for Hopper to put the pieces together and realize that he had gone to high school with Mike’s parents. “Well, I definitely know his dad - not too many Wheelers living in Hawkins. And if he’s still with the same woman, then I know your roommate’s mother, too. Only I knew her when she was still Karen Jenkins, not Karen Wheeler.”

El’s face screws up in a grimace. “You know, I’m not sure how much I like that you know more about my roommate than I do.”

Hop shrugs, smirking. “Honestly, it helps knowing that I know this kid’s parents. And if the son is anything like the father, your new roommate is probably the biggest wet blanket of a person on the face of the planet and I can sleep easier knowing that my daughter’s new young, virile male roommate is too boring to get into trouble.”

“Ugh, _Dad,_ ” El moans, rolling her eyes so hard she’s surprised they don’t fall out of her head. “Mike’s _not_ a wet blanket. He’s a nice, normal guy.”

At this, Hop’s smirk grows into a full blown grin. “Why, dear daughter mine, is there something you’re not telling me?”

El glares at him. “No,” she says slowly. “I just don’t want you making fun of my roommate, ok?” What El’s _not_ telling Hop is that in the days since she came back from Chicago with her name on a lease and her new keys in her pocket, she’s been exchanging regular text messages with Mike. Mostly, the messages are about logistics related to sharing an apartment or where El can find certain things she knows she’s going to want to go buy.

But there’s been some more _personal_ messages in there, too - just friendly, getting-to-know-you sort of stuff. Like, El finds out that Mike’s in his second year of grad school at Northwestern where he’s getting his master’s degree in electrical engineering. And that he’s not a picky eater, but hates peas. She shares with him, in return, that she’s about to start a job as a social worker and that she _hates_ bananas and that her favorite movie of all time is “The Princess Bride”.

 _I just wanted to warn you that when I’m having a bad day, I like to watch “The Princess Bride”, so I watch it a lot. I can understand if this is a deal breaker, but I’m banking on your leniency,_ is what she texted him a couple of days ago.

 _Haha, no worries,_ he’d texted back. _It’s a good movie. A little girly for my tastes, but my sisters love it, so I’ve seen it a bunch of times, too._

 _Aww, you have sisters? I always wanted a sister growing up,_ El replied with.

 _You want one of mine? I have a spare. I’ll even let you pick which one you want._ He’d ended the text with a winking smiley face emoji and El is embarrassed to admit it even to herself how flustered that little winking face made her.

El gives herself a mental shake to refocus on the present, where her dad is looking down at her with a knowing look that is filled with amusement. _He’s having **way** too much fun with this. _

“Now, if you don’t mind,” El says, thankfully not having to fake the exasperation in her tone. “I need to finish packing.” It’s Friday night and El’s planning on leaving tomorrow morning. Hop already took her out to a going-away dinner and now she’s just doing last minute packing so all she really has to do in the morning is load up her car.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Hop says. “I’ll let this go. _For now._ Let me know if you need any more boxes, though.”

“I will. Thanks, Dad.”

Hop gives her a wave before he walks off, leaving El alone once more. She takes the moment to look around the room at the boxes she’s packed. She’s not bringing any furniture with her, so everything she’s bringing will fit in her car just fine - mainly clothes, books and other small personal items like mementos. Her bedding is still not packed yet, but she needs _somewhere_ to sleep tonight, so she’ll strip the bed in the morning. It’ll be the last thing she packs besides the stuff she needs for a shower.

It’s crazy to think that El’s _finally_ moving out. She’s been living here with Hop since she was 10, so this has been her room for 13 years. And she wonders what Hop’s going to do without her here. She knows he’s been itching for a change, for something slower and quieter, but he’s stayed put so she’d have somewhere to live while she finished up college. _Maybe he’ll move back to Hawkins,_ El thinks with a chuckle before she shelves the thought and finishes putting the last of her clothes except what she’s going to wear tomorrow in a box.

As she finishes up packing, El can’t stop smiling. Because despite the fact that she’s a little sad to be moving away from home and from her dad, there’s an excitement that thrums in her blood, resonating across her skin. It’s the start of something _new,_ the glory of the unknown. Her life’s about to _completely_ change, hopefully for the better.

And, if not, at least she has a cute roommate to help soften the blow. After all...

_Eye candy **does** makes everything better. _

 

* * *

  
_Just leaving Indianapolis. Should be there by 1ish._

Mike gets the text from El a little after 8 in the morning on a Saturday and just the knowledge that she’s on her way sends his heartbeat skyrocketing up into the stratosphere.

 _Holy shit,_ she’s on her way. In less than 5 hours, Mike will officially be living with a woman he’s not related to.

A woman he’s pretty sure he’s unbearably attracted to.

 _Yes, Mike, excellent. Torture yourself by agreeing to live with the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met. Great job, A-plus work,_ he chides himself as he heads out for a morning run, trying to beat the temperatures he knows will be unbearably hot in a matter of hours.

He’s spent the last week both anticipating and dreading today, the day that El moves in. Because he’s not sure what he should expect, but he knows it’s somehow going to be both gloriously awkward and awkwardly glorious. Plus, there was something almost addicting about being in the same room as El and he only got to spend about 20 minutes in her presence when she came to check out the place and he’s curious to see how it’ll be to spend _hours_ with her.

 _Again, torturing yourself,_ his brain reminds him.

_Oh, shut up, you._

Great, now he’s _arguing_ with himself. Fantastic.

But, regardless of how it’ll be to live with El, Mike does know one thing: El’s one of the nicest people he’s ever talked to. They’ve been exchanging text messages on and off throughout the last week, mostly with questions for each other related to their impending cohabitation, but there have been exchanges around the margins of those conversations that have made him hopeful, that have made him realize that El could at least be a friend.

_(he doesn’t dare think of it being more. not when he’s only just met her...not when she’s about to be his **roommate**. but, deep in the back of his mind, not that he wants to admit it, not that he’s even **aware** of it, he wants it to be more. he’s only spent 20 minutes in her company and he’s already half in love with her. _

_he just doesn’t **know** it yet.) _

Like, for example, when she asked him about what kind of food he liked and when he asked why, she told him: _I want to make dinner my first night there. You know, to thank you for letting me rent your room, lol._

The way his heart had squeezed in response should have sent alarm bells ringing in Mike’s head, but even if it had, Mike wouldn’t have been able to hear it over the pounding of his heart. _Um, I’m not particularly picky. I just don’t like peas. Otherwise, whatever you want to make is fine._

 _That’s valid,_ El texted back. _Peas can be kinda gross._

_Wow, usually people give me shit for not liking peas! You’re a kind soul, El Hopper._

There’d been a bit of a pause and Mike had been worried that maybe he scared her off. But then she started typing a few seconds later. _Well, I would never judge someone for what they don’t like. I don’t like bananas and whenever I tell people that, they look at me like I’ve just killed their dog or something. So I totally understand._

 _Lmao, people can be weird,_ Mike texted back.

_Totally weird. See, I knew there was a reason I liked you._

_That_ had set of a flurry of butterflies in his stomach and all Mike could do was text back with a generic smiley face emoji, too overwhelmed to do anything more than that. _She liked him!_

Ok, she definitely meant that in a friendly way, but _still._

And there were several smaller moments just like this, small conversations that cemented the fact in Mike’s head that El was genuinely as sweet as she was beautiful, sweet and funny and _fun_ to talk to. So, while he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle living with such a beautiful woman while being, well... _him,_ Mike was looking forward to getting to know El, to becoming friends with her.

It’s this excitement that carries him throughout his run and, by the time Mike’s back at the apartment, a good deal of his anxiety has faded away (some of that might have to do with the endorphins from running, but he’ll take it regardless).

Mike tries to occupy his time by doing some last-minute cleaning and working on the outline of the novel he’s been thinking of writing for a while. Because while Mike is getting his master’s in engineering so he can be a lecturer, he’s always liked creating stories, like he did when he and the Party used to play D&D and he was the DM. And he figures this might be something he can explore on the side, something that won’t be the end of the world if it doesn’t work out because he can only figure it's really hard to get published.

The only break in this when Will texts the Party halfway through the morning in their group text. _Hey, anyone down to go see a movie? Greg’s busy with art gallery stuff and I’m bored._

Dustin and Lucas chime in with enthusiastic “yeses”, but Mike texts back: _Can’t, new roommate is moving in today. Wanna be here to help._

 _Ooh, the mysterious new roommate,_ Dustin texts back. _The one we’ve heard NOTHING about._

 _lmao, maybe it’s an old woman and mike’s hella embarrassed,_ Lucas texts in reply.

 _NOT AN OLD WOMAN,_ Mike replies, frustration mounting.

 _Guys, stop,_ Will says, again being the peace-keeping voice of reason. _That’s not nice to this person we haven’t met._

 _Alright, fair,_ Dustin texts.

 _And I promise, you’ll meet the new roomie. Just give’em a chance to settle in first, ok?_ Mike knows he’s walking the world’s thinnest tightrope on this. Because he absolutely _has not_ told the guys that his new roommate is an incredibly gorgeous woman his age (only a few weeks older than him, to be specific, if the information on the lease she signed is accurate). And he knows the second they find out - and they  _will_ \- they’re going to tease him mercilessly. So Mike’s really just trying to push that inevitability as far out as possible.

The rest of the morning passes relatively peacefully and, a little after 1 in the afternoon, Mike’s phone rings. He smiles when he sees the name flashing across his screen and he hurries to answer. “Hey, roomie,” he says and is rewarded with the gift of El’s gorgeous, delicate giggle. Mike feels like the most powerful guy in the world, that he can make El laugh like that.

“Hey, there,” El says, amusement radiating loud and clear in her voice. “I’m parked right outside the building. Wanna help a roommate out and unpack my car with me?”

Mike figures he’d say yes even if she asked him if he wanted to wax his legs or give up meat or something, so this is a no-brainer. “Yeah, sure! I’ll be right down!”

Mike practically _runs_ downstairs, making sure to leave the door propped open so they can more easily carry El’s things inside.

He makes it outside in record time, miraculously not tripping on the stairs in his rush to help El-

-only to almost eat it on the front stoop when he sees her.

El managed to park right in front of their building and she’s leaning against the passenger side door, attention focused on her phone while she waits. Mike gulps at the sight of her, blood beginning to race hot in his veins. Not only is El somehow more beautiful than the last time he saw her, but he’s realizing that in addition to being amazingly gorgeous, El Hopper is fucking _hot._

She’s wearing a pale gray t-shirt that clings tightly to the lines of her upper body, emphasizing the slim musculature of her arms, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breasts. But his eyes are drawn to her legs and Mike feels like he seriously might pass out. Because she’s wearing tight jean shorts that hug close to her hips, the hem landing a couple of inches short of the middle of her thighs, leaving practically the whole length of her legs exposed to his hungry gaze, all tanned skin and toned muscle and shapely calves and _jesus fucking christ._

It’s hitting Mike in this very moment that he is _undeniably_ a leg man and El has the most fucking _amazing_ legs he’s ever seen. His hands suddenly itch to feel her skin beneath his palms, to trail his touch up the length of those legs _and then keep going and-_

On the periphery of his vision, Mike notices El lifting her head from her phone to look at him. And he hurries to look back at her face, hoping fervently that he doesn’t look like he’s guilty of just checking her out.

But then he focuses on her face and part of him has to concede that he’s already a total goner. Her hair is pulled up in an adorable ponytail, her skin clean of makeup as far as he can tell, and she looks so fresh-faced and cute and _pretty_ that, combined with how attracted he is to her, Mike’s not entirely sure he’s not going to spontaneously combust right there on the spot.

One thing, however, is becoming painfully clear: agreeing to let El Hopper move in with him is both the best and worst idea he’s ever had, the most delicious torture he’s ever signed himself up for.

And he has no goddamn idea how he’s going to survive this.

 

* * *

  
El looks up when she sees movement out of the corner of her eye and she can’t help but smile when she sees Mike standing on the front stoop.

 _God, he’s cute,_ her brain sighs as she gives him a once over. It’s clear Mike’s not a complicated man, because he’s dressed simply in loose, khaki shorts and a t-shirt. But this time, the t-shirt’s a dark navy blue that looks _impossibly_ good against his skin, the fabric stretching across his shoulders, the cut of the shirt hugging _just so_ to the lean lines of his torso. And his hair is a bit wild, curling a little from Chicago’s humidity, looking so soft and adorably disheveled that El wants nothing more than to run her fingers through it.

 _Ok, stop this **right now** , _ she chides herself, giving herself a mental shake as she focuses on actually interacting with him instead of just _staring_ at him.

And she can’t help but zero in on the wide-eyed look of shock on his face and El cringes, figuring he _has_ to be looking at the interior of her car, piled high with all the things she needs to bring upstairs. _Yes, way to make a good impression on moving in day - showing up with **mountains** of stuff. _

“Hey, there. Sorry about this,” she says, giving Mike a wave as she steps away from the car.

The movement seems to reanimate him because Mike gives _himself_ a shake and walks down the couple of steps of the stoop. “Uh, hi,” he says, still eyeing her a bit strangely.

“It’s really not as much as it looks, I _promise._ ” El bites her lip and gives him an imploring look, trying to convey just how sorry she is.

But Mike blinks down rapidly at her and he tilts his head just a bit. “Excuse me?”

“The stuff in my car,” El says, eyebrows raising slightly. Ok, now _she’s_ starting to get confused. “I know it looks like a lot, but none of it’s all that heavy.” She pauses, gesturing vaguely with her hand. “Well, except for the boxes of books, but there’s only a handful of those. It’s mostly just clothes and shoes and stuff.”

Mike breathes out a laugh and looks away from her at her car behind her. “Oh, no, it’s ok. I just-” He cuts off, lips pinching shut and a blush crawls up his cheeks. He sighs a moment later and shakes his head as he looks back at her, a small, embarrassed smile gracing his lips. “Never mind, I’m just being an idiot. Which is, you know, _normal_ for me.”

Something about the way Mike says those words hits El right in the heart and she smiles up at him. “You’re not an idiot,” she says with a shake of her head, her voice going soft.

Mike quirks an eyebrow down at her. “How do you know that? You pretty much just met me.”

“I have a pretty good read on people, Mike,” El says, smiling just a bit wider. “And I can tell that you’re anything _but_ an idiot.”

Mike stares at her for a second, a bit wide-eyed, but then he lets out another low laugh and shakes his head. “You’re something else, do you know that?”

El giggles. “My dad tells me that every day, so yes, yes I do know that.”

That earns El a snort, even though Mike’s fighting off a smile. “Well, so long as you know….” He shakes his head and looks over at her car. “Come on, it’s hot out here and sooner we unpack your car, the sooner we can just stay inside where there’s air conditioning.”

El nods, smiling brightly and feeling oh so excited. “Sounds good to me! Let’s get me moved in.”

It really doesn’t take them long - El wasn’t lying when she said it looks like there’s more in her car than there really is. Mike disappears back upstairs for a second to get a small hand truck he borrowed from a friend to get the boxes with her books upstairs, but most of it is easily carried in their arms in several trips.

It takes them maybe an hour and then all her stuff is unloaded and sitting in her new room, either on the floor or on the bare mattress. The only exception is the groceries she bought to make dinner. Those are out on the counter, waiting to get put away.

“You know, you really don’t have to make me dinner,” Mike says as he follows her out to the kitchen so she can put away the groceries.

El turns and looks at him over her shoulder. “Who said I was making _you_ dinner?” she asks, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning.

That stops Mike in his tracks and he stares at her, mouth agape and eyes wide, before he tries to speak. “Wait, but you said - I just - I thought-”

El can’t help the way she giggles - rambly, sentence fragment Mike is just _way too cute_ \- and she takes pity on him, cutting him off before he can stutter even more. “I’m just kidding. Yes, I’m making you dinner and you can’t stop me,” she says as she goes over to the bags on the counter and starts unpacking the bags of groceries she bought right before she arrived at the apartment - _her_ apartment, her brain reminds her. _You live here now, too._

Mike comes over to stand in the entrance to the kitchen, a light blush on his face. “Oh, ok, well...thank you.”

El suppresses a sigh at the grateful look on Mike’s face. “Really, it’s the least I can do. You _did_ let me rent your spare room.”

A grin flashes across Mike’s lips. “And leave a pretty girl out in the cold? Never.”

El’s hands freeze from where they’re unpacking a bag of macaroni noodles and she stares over at him, warmth filling her and she can feel her face heating up. “Excuse me?” Did he just...call her _pretty?_ Oh god, her heart’s racing _way too fast_ all of the sudden.

The same realization hits Mike a half a second later and a deep blush crawls over his own face. “Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he says, cringing, face falling. “It was just an expression. I wouldn’t - I mean, you’re very pretty and I - but I wasn’t trying to-”

There’s going to be no graceful way out of this conversation, El can tell, not for either of them, so she just smiles and tries in vain to calm the beating of her heart. “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” she says, rushing to get the words out. “Hey, you want a beer? I grabbed a six pack and put it in your fridge when we first started unpacking, so they should be cold by now.”

The smile that crosses Mike’s face tells El that he’s glad for the out she’s just given him. “A beer sounds _fantastic,_ ” Mike says. “Thank you.”

El goes over and pulls two bottles out of the fridge before she pauses, looking around to try and figure out where the bottle opener is.

She’s just about to ask when Mike comes into the kitchen. “Here, I’ll show you where the bottle opener is,” Mike says and El steps aside so Mike can maneuver around her. It’s in this moment that El realizes just how _small_ the kitchen really is. It’s a galley kitchen, with the fridge on the left, the stove on the right, and the sink straight ahead. There’s maybe 3 feet between the counters and the only reason why El didn’t notice how small it is earlier is because of the cutout that opens the kitchen to the dining room on the other side of the low wall behind the stove.

But it’s really apparent now as El backs up maybe a half a step to let Mike get into one of the drawers near the sink and feels the edge of the counter press into the small of her back. She looks up at him, suddenly _really_ aware of just how tall Mike Wheeler is, how imposing that height really is. She’s staring up at him and her heart is racing double time to try and make up for the fact that she suddenly can’t breathe. And to make it worse, he’s only _inches_ from her, so she can feel the radiant warmth of his body and wonders what it must be like to have that warmth even _closer,_ to have him and his height engulf her.

 _How far would he have to bend over to kiss me?_ she wonders and _immediately_ blushes at the thought, her face feeling like it’s on fire and she very much wants to chug one of the beers she’s holding in her hands.

“Bottle opener’s in this drawer,” El hears Mike say, but she’s not looking at which drawer he’s opening because she can’t stop looking up at him. At this distance, she can very easily make out the light smattering of freckles along the skin of his neck and El _craves_ to figure out what patterns she could discover in the way those freckles splash across his skin, to see how far down those freckles go where they disappear beneath the collar of his shirt. Her heart’s about to beat its way out of her chest and she figures Mike _has_ to be able to hear it - he’s close enough, after all, but she can’t seem to get a handle on herself right now.

And then Mike turns around, bottle opener in hand. “Here you - _oh._ ” He seems just as surprised as she is at how close they are, eyes widening beneath dark brows that arch upward, and the sense of camaraderie she feels from seeing him mirror her surprise gives El some common ground to stand on, enough to let her regain some measure of control.

“Small kitchen,” she says with a weak laugh as she reaches for the bottle opener, trying not to notice (and failing miserably) at how fast Mike takes his hand away once she safely has the bottle opener in her grip, like he doesn’t want to touch her.

Mike returns the weak laugh. “Yeah, small kitchen,” he repeats as he side steps back towards the kitchen’s entrance. And, though part of El resents the distance, she’s mostly appreciative because she can _breathe_ again. Lord, being that close to Mike Wheeler is just _too_ overwhelming. “It’s funny,” Mike says as he leans forward against the counter on the right side of the stove, feet firmly planted in the living room while his forearms rest against the countertop. “I kinda forgot how small it was.”

El pops the tops of the beers and passes one over to Mike. “How? You’re, like, gargantuan,” she says with a vague gesture in Mike’s direction.

Mike snorts even as another blush spreads across his cheeks. “Gee, thanks,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “No, it’s just, with my old roommate, Will, we’ve known each other for so long that we’re used to being in each other’s personal spaces all the time. We could be standing on each other and not even notice, it’s that bad.”

El smiles as she takes a sip of her beer before she gets back to unpacking groceries. “Best friend?” she asks.

“One of three,” Mike says, a cute, boyish smile pulling up at the corners of his lips. “We all grew up together back in Hawkins and we moved to Chicago together to go to school.”

El’s heart flutters dangerously, but she can’t help it - it’s just so _touching,_ the idea of having friends that close for that long. It’s something she’s never gotten to experience and it makes her almost unbearably sad, even as she’s so glad Mike got to experience that. “That’s so sweet,” she says. “You’re really lucky to have friends like that.”

“The luckiest,” Mike says, agreeing with an emphatic nod. “They’re practically my brothers.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet them,” El says as she finishes laying everything out on the counter and starts folding up the paper bags. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” she says with a snap of her fingers, thought coming to mind. “Speaking of Hawkins, I told my dad about you being from there, too, and he’s pretty sure he remembers your parents.”

Mike lets out a laugh. “Man, really? That is so _weird._ ”

El nods. “Oh, I completely agree,” she says before she starts putting the things that need to be kept cool in the fridge. “But he’s pretty sure he went to high school with your parents.” She pauses, thinking back to what Hop said last night. “Is your mom’s name Karen?”

“Yep, sure is,” Mike says with another laugh before he breathes out a sigh. “Man, what a small world, huh?”

El grins. “About as small as this kitchen.”

Mike gives her a flat look that has her breaking out into giggles. “Oh, very funny, you.”

“I try,” she says, still laughing. “So, tell me where everything goes. I wanna learn how you’ve organized this kitchen so I can horribly judge you and fix it later.”

“You know, I think I’m beginning to regret letting you sign the lease,” Mike says, but there’s a teasing glint in his eye that gives him away.

“Psh, never,” El says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m a perfect angel who can do no wrong.”

Mike raises an eyebrow, skepticism mixing with what El is hoping is amusement. “Uh huh, sure,” he says before he smiles. El can’t stop the way her heart skips several beats in her chest at just how _cute_ he is, but she manages to keep herself mostly under control as Mike starts to speak again and she lets herself get lost in focusing on Mike guiding her around the kitchen with his voice. “So, the bread you bought, you’re going to want to put….”

 

* * *

  
Together, Mike and El put away the groceries she bought, him explaining where everything goes while she follows his instructions.

And, the entire time, Mike _cannot_ stop looking at El. She’s just so goddamn _beautiful._ He loves the way her face adorable twists up in confusion as she’s trying to puzzle out his instructions, or the smile of triumph that lights her up when she figures it out. He loves watching her move around the small space, enthralled by the easy grace of her movements, the bouncing sway of her ponytail as it moves behind her, the way her slim fingers pull open drawers or cabinet doors. He loves watching her stretch up to put things away on the higher shelves and he’s fascinated by way her body bends and twists to put things away in the lower cabinets.

Really, Mike’s just enchanted by _her._ And he’s honestly wondering what bit of serendipitous insanity took hold when he agreed to let her rent the room. Because this really is going to be torture, both of the best and worst kinds.

It’s tempered, though, by the memory of just a little bit ago, of being in the kitchen to get the bottle opener for her and turning around to see her standing so very close...and looking up at him with what Mike can only describe as nervous shock. His heart had sunk a bit at the way she was looking up at him, like he was _too close,_ and he’d hurried to give her the bottle opener, trying not to touch her so he wouldn’t do something really embarrassing, before he got out of the kitchen as fast as he could.

And, honestly, Mike could kind of understand some of the nervousness. Because El’s just _so pretty,_ it’s hard to think around her. When he turned around to give her the bottle opener, his first thought had been _she’s so close, it would be so easy to kiss her,_ and his body almost followed through to make that thought a reality. But then he’d noticed the look on her face - shock and nervousness and what Mike thought was a little bit of fear - and it brought him crashing back down to Earth. Because they just met and she’s his _roommate._ And he really shouldn’t be kissing people who he’s just met who he’s also agreed to live with.

 _Don’t let yourself get carried away with this. Don’t let yourself get a crush on your roommate,_ he warns himself a bit later, once they’re finished putting things away and El has gone into her room to do some unpacking before she makes dinner (and he can’t help but be really curious about what she’s going to make; he’d been so focused on _her_ that he hadn’t really been paying attention to the ingredients she was putting away).

Honestly, Mike knows that just because he’s attracted to El, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll be anything more than that. But his heart isn’t always the smartest when it comes to stuff like this, so the warning feels necessary.

He’ll get used to it, he hopes. After a while of living with her, El’s beauty will just become a part of who she is, not something he hyper fixates on, just part of the background noise of this new person in his life.

_Yes, that’s it. That’s **exactly** what will happen. _

( _spoiler alert: **it isn’t**.) _

 

* * *

  
The next few hours pass _peacefully._ Mike’s in his room, door propped open, and he can hear the sounds of El unpacking her things, music softly playing from what he assumes is her phone.

It’s _nice,_ Mike thinks. Aside from his internal freak out drama over how to handle being insanely attracted to his new roommate, Mike’s realizing that he forgot how nice it was to have someone else in the apartment, even if said person is in a completely different room, doing completely different things.

It helps to feel not so _lonely._ Like, if Mike wanted to, he could get up and go have a conversation with El about nothing in particular, face to face. Or he could share something amusing he found. Or he could ask her a question or for her advice about something. Or he could just ask her if she wanted to hang out and watch a movie with him or something.

None of which, he wants to at this very moment…

...ok, _lie._  He wants _all_ of those things. But El’s busy unpacking and he wants to give her some space away from her borderline clingy roommate who's clearly been by himself for far too long.

The thought hits Mike out of the blue, causing him to look away from his laptop where he’s just scrolling through Buzzfeed. Oh god, is _that_ what all this is? Is he just _really_ lonely? Is that why he’s so hyper-fixated on El?

And, really, it may not explain his intense physical attraction to her - because you’d have to be _blind_ not to be attracted to such perfection - it definitely explains everything else: why he’s so fascinated with her, why he’s been so excited to have her move in, why he can’t stop thinking about her.

It’s not a crush - he’s _lonely._

Relief rushes through him like a cooling wave and Mike is honestly so glad he figured it out. He really feels so much better.

Yes, El Hopper is still insanely beautiful - _nothing_ could change that fact. But Mike isn’t just latching on to the first pretty woman who’s paid any attention to him in a while. He’s just grateful for some kind of regular human contact around the apartment again.

But now that he knows, he won’t be so weird around her and everything’ll work out just fine.

And with _that_ problem solved, Mike lets himself get sucked back into what he was doing: just relaxing in his room. He eventually moves on from browsing the internet to reading the Brandon Sanderson novel he’s in the middle of, trying to both enjoy the story _and_ pay attention just how the author writes the way he does so Mike can figure out a way to achieve a similar effect.

So it comes as an honest surprise a few hours later when there’s a knock on his half open door and Mike startles a bit before he looks up to see El poking her head into his room, a soft smile on her face.

“Hey, I was just about to get started on dinner. Wanna come hang out with me?” she asks, sparing a moment to glance around his room and Mike’s _so_ glad he cleaned it before she got here because _that_ would have been embarrassing.

Mike smiles at her and marks his place in his book before setting it aside. “Sure. Besides, I’m curious what you’re going to make.”

El gives him a look, eyes narrowing slightly, lips pursing, but there’s faint amusement in her gaze. “Weren’t you there when I was putting away the groceries?”

Mike shrugs, not wanting to admit he was mostly watching _her._ “Yeah, but I’m not a cook, so it could be _anything._ ”

El rolls her eyes, letting out a suffering sigh, and Mike can’t hold back the chuckle that escapes him. “ _Boys,_ ” she says before she pushes his door open and gestures for him to follow her. “Well, come on,” she says.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mike says, grinning, as he goes to walk behind her.

“And I’m making macaroni and cheese with pork cutlets, for your information,” she says archly, sparing him a glance over her shoulder.

Mike’s mouth immediately starts watering at the sound of that and he’s really glad his stomach doesn’t chime in with a growl. Because suddenly, he’s _really_ hungry. “Wow, that sounds great,” Mike says as he stops just outside the kitchen, resuming his earlier position, leaning forward with his elbows on the open-ended counter next to the stove.

El goes over to the fridge and pulls out two beers, asking him with a simple arch of her eyebrow. When he nods, she goes to grab the bottle opener she left on the counter earlier. “It’s not much, really,” El says. “But it’s easy to make, especially after a long day.”

Mike shrugs as he takes the beer from her hands, the glass cool and slick against his palm. “Well, I’m not much of a cook at all, so it’s better than me.”

El gives him a look that is part concern and part confusion. “How have you been feeding yourself living alone?”

Mike blushes and looks way, giving himself a moment by taking a long pull from the bottle in his hand. “I didn’t say I couldn’t make _anything,_ ” Mike says when he looks back at her, coming to his own defense. He _really_ doesn’t want her to think he’s totally incompetent (even though he kind of is). “I just...only make, like 4 things and I’ve supplementing with a lot of ready-to-make things I buy from the store.”

“Mike,” El says, her tone full of disappointment and it tugs at his heart. “Those ready-to-make things are _expensive._ ”

Mike grins. “Yes, but they’re less expensive than ordering pizza,” he says, pointing at her.

El pauses, thinking, before she tilts her head in acquiescence. “Alright, that’s true,” she says and Mike internally crows at the victory. “But we’re going to fix this so you can make _more_ things.”

“Are you gonna teach me, is that what you’re saying?” he asks, grin widening. He just can’t help it; El’s so adorable when she’s determined and he likes hearing that El’s going to be around long enough to teach him how to cook.

“I am. Just not tonight,” El says with a sly grin before she starts pulling together the ingredients for dinner.

For a while, there’s just this: El making dinner, Mike watching her, the two of them talking, getting to know each other. El tells Mike about her new job as a social worker that she’s excited for, Mike tells her about the classes he’s TAing and the thesis he needs to start working on. And, together, they talk about the things they like to do, Mike chiming in with where El could do some of those things in Chicago, and it’s nice, Mike thinks, to be having this conversation with someone.

And it’s even _better_ that there’s no awkward pauses or anything. The conversation between them flows easily and naturally and Mike is really, _really_ starting to think that maybe he’s actually found a new friend.

Then, just after El’s put the casserole dish with the macaroni and cheese in it in the oven and she’s cleaning up a bit before prepping the pork cutlets, her cell phone rings from where she’s stashed it in her back pocket. The sound draws Mike’s attention to said back pocket (where he tries really, _really_ hard not to check out her ass and _fails miserably_ ) and El fishes her phone out after wiping her hands on a dish towel.

El takes one glance at the screen and her face breaks out in a huge smile. “Hi, Dad,” she says as she answers the phone. She smiles over at Mike and gives him a small, amused eye roll. “Yeah, I got all my stuff moved in. Still unpacking, but it’s all in my new room.” Another pause. “Just making dinner for me and my new roommate.” The next second, her smile disappears and she frowns a bit, brow furrowing. “Dad, why do you-?” She sighs, shoulders slumping. “Fine, but I’m putting you on speaker so I can hear what you’re saying to him.”

El looks over, apology heavy in her gaze, and she takes her phone away from her face. “My dad wants to speak with you,” she says, tone clearly indicating that she thinks this is annoying and stupid, but she puts her phone on speaker anyway and sets it down on the counter. “Alright, just remember that I can hear _everything_ you’re saying,” El says, giving Mike a small smile.

A small nervous thrill runs down Mike’s spine and his breath sticks in his throat for a second before he gathers his wits enough to push past it. “Um, hello?”

“Why, hello, there,” a deep, booming voice sounds from the cell phone’s speaker, it’s heft lessened by tinniness imbued by the speaker. “Is this my daughter’s new, very male roommate?”

“Dad,” El growls, glaring at the phone. “Be nice,” she says before she turns to keep making dinner.

“I’m nothing if _not_ nice,” El’s dad says. “So, kid, turns out I used to know your parents.”

 _Oh, he’s talking to **me**. _ “Oh, uh, yes sir, looks like it. Small world, huh?”

“Yeah, your dad was a couple of years ahead of me, but your mom and me were in the same class.”

“‘Your mom and _I,_ ’ Dad,” El calls over her shoulder.

“Geez, my daughter, the grammar nazi,” El’s dad grumbles. “ _Anyway,_ I just wanted to get a sense of who’s living with my little girl. What do you do, Wheeler?”

“Oh, um, I’m a grad student, sir,” Mike says, wondering why El’s dad is grilling him like Mike’s her _boyfriend_ or something.

“Eh, knock off with the ‘sir’ shit. Name’s Jim Hopper, but no one calls me Jim.”

“Oh, uh, sorry, um...Hopper.” Mike looks over at El, confusion furrowing his brow, trying to make sense about what the hell is going on right now. “Is your dad for real?” Mike mouths, barely even whispering the words.

El rolls her eyes and nods. “Yes,” she mouths back.

“Hey, I know you’re talking about me over there. Don’t think I don’t know these things.”

El snickers. “Yes, the infamous Cop Sense strikes again.”

“Don’t think I don’t know how to find you, missy,” Hopper says. “Teach you to make fun of my skills.”

The threat’s not a real one and, by the way El’s giggling, this seems like a fun routine between father and daughter and it makes Mike’s heart clench in his chest a little to know that there clearly are some people who manage to have good relationships with their parents, even if _he’s_ not one of them. “Whatever you say, Dad,” El says, shaking her head.

“So, Wheeler,” Hopper says, refocusing his attention. “You said you’re a grad student?”

“Um, yes,” Mike says. “At Northwestern. Studying Electrical Engineering.”

“Hmm, smart, then. Clearly better than your old man, at least.”

A weird burst of pride fills Mike’s chest. “Um, thank you...Hopper.” God, the urge to call this man “sir” is _really_ strong, especially since he feels like he’s being given the third degree.

“So, last name Wheeler. Grad student at Northwestern. First name?”

Mike’s eyebrows start inching towards his hairline. “Mike?”

“Mike,” Hopper says, repeating it slowly, like he’s writing it down. “Maybe short for Michael. And date of birth?”

Mike starts answering out of habit, feeling the sweat beginning to trickle down the back of his neck - “April 10th, 19-” - but El cuts him off before he can finish answering.

“Alright, that’s enough,” El says, coming forward to grab the phone. “You’re not scaring my new roommate by threatening to run a background check on him. Good night, Dad.”

“But I wasn’t-” Hopper starts to say, but doesn’t get to finish as El hangs up the phone, putting it on silent before slipping it back in her pocket.

“Ugh, sorry about that. He was being a troll.”

Mike smiles and it feels a little shaky. “Um, thanks.” He pauses, thinking. “Your dad wasn’t _really_ going to run a background check on me, was he?”

“Probably not,” El says. “He was making fun of me for moving in with a guy yesterday, so I don’t think he’s worried. But he likes being a grade-A troll. I think he gets off on it, or something.” She smiles at him, soft and apologetic. “So, sorry about that. I can’t control him, but I _can_ shut him up when he’s at a distance.”

“He won’t be mad at you for hanging up on him, will he?” Mike asks, worried about possibly being the cause of a problem. He certainly couldn’t get away with hanging up on either of his parents like that.

El waves away Mike’s concern, though. “Nah, he’s probably laughing his ass off right now.” She gives a start and then rolls her eyes. “God, that’s probably him texting me right now,” she says and Mike figures she probably felt the text messages going off in her pocket. El pulls her phone back out and laughs at what she sees. “See? Not mad.”

El turns the screen so Mike can see. _Ur so mean to ur dear old dad. - How did I raise such a mean daughter? - I should get my money back._ The text messages end with an emoji of a smiley face sticking its tongue out and Mike can’t help but chuckle, even though there’s still a little anxiety rolling through him. “Wow, your dad is-”

“A dork?” El finishes for him, cutting Mike off before he could finish.

Mike shrugs. “Yeah, that’s close enough.”

El giggles. “Yeah, he’s a character, all right. But I love him.”

“Sounds like you two have a good relationship,” Mike says, giving El a small smile.

“We do,” El says. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” She puts her phone away. “Now, time to get back to making dinner. I promised you food and I _always_ keep my promises.”

Mike’s small smile turns into a large grin. “See, I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

El lets out a dramatic gasp and presses her hand to his heart. “He likes me. He _really_ likes me!”

“Hey, it’s really not too late to kick you off the lease,” Mike says, arching an eyebrow at her, even though he _cannot stop_ smiling.

El’s smiling back, though, the sight so beautiful it makes Mike’s heart skip a few beats in his chest. “And give up the delicious food I’m going to make you? _Please,_ I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says with a put out sigh that’s probably really at odds with his smile. “I guess you can stay.” And, really, he _does_ have to admit that the baking macaroni smells _delicious._ God, he’s _really_ going to like having El around.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly, Mike and El sitting down in the small dining nook to eat after setting the table. El gives a small toast as they each have their third beer of the day - “Here’s to the start of a beautiful roommate relationship.” - and Mike has to laugh even as his breath catches a little in his chest at the way his stomach swoops, but he’s able to ignore it and focus on what’s right in front of him. Which, namely, is El’s amazing cooking and continuing getting to know his new roommate a little better.

After dinner (during which, he somehow agrees to go with El all the way out to the nearest IKEA, which is clear on the other side of the city), Mike offers to do the dishes since she cooked _and_ she drove all the way from Indianapolis earlier that morning so she _has_ to be tired.

El gives him a grateful smile. “Thanks, I’m pretty beat, actually - all the stress of moving, you know. I think I’m just going to take a shower and go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning though, so we can head out to IKEA.”

Mike laughs a little. “I’m still not sure how you got me to agree to that.”

El arches an eyebrow primly at him. “I just asked nicely. It’s not like I twisted your arm, or anything.” She breaks character, giggling. “Anyway, good night, Mike. Thanks again for, well, everything.”

Mike shakes his head. “Honestly, not a problem. G’night, El.”

El gives him one last smile and a small wave before she heads to her room, leaving Mike to clear the table.

And, when he’s doing the dishes, he hears the unmistakable sound of the shower running just on the other side of the wall, making him suddenly and very uncomfortably aware that his new _incredibly gorgeous_ roommate is naked at this very moment.

A flash of heat sparks in Mike’s veins and he tamps it down immediately, gritting his teeth against the images his brain _really_ wants to supply him with.

_You will **not** imagine your roommate naked. **You will not**. _

Yeah, this is going to be a lot more difficult than he thought, ignoring just how beautiful El is.

And, somehow Mike really, _really_  doesn't think he’s going to survive this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (you guys, denial is just a river in egypt, _i swear_ )
> 
> Ok, I promise, this isn't going to turn into a super long thing. I really meant for this to be a very long one shot, not a sprawling epic. 
> 
> _how does this always happen to meeeee_....


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha, so I wanted this out, like...last Friday? And I was on track for that? And then life got crazy busy? So.....
> 
> Hey, I guess all I'm saying is I'm here now and that's what counts.
> 
> Get ready for some more awkwardness y'all.....

It takes El _way_ too long to fall asleep that first night in her new home. And it turns out, after a little introspection as she lays there, staring up at the ceiling, that it’s not just one thing keeping her up - it’s a little bit of a _lot_ of things.

For one, El’s always had a difficult time falling asleep somewhere new. The room’s just _different,_ never mind the mattress that’s beneath her. Even though it’s her bedding, which is familiar and reassuring, the mattress isn’t _her_ mattress - it’s a nice mattress, but it’s way softer than she’s used to - _hmm, maybe something I should look into when I’m at IKEA._ There’s the light coming in from the window that’s not like it is at home and she can hear the faint sounds of the city through the window panes, completely foreign than the sounds of the suburbs back in Indianapolis.

Then, there’s her trip to IKEA tomorrow, which she is _so_ excited for. El loves interior design and home decorating - hell, there’s an entire section of her Pinterest devoted to all things home decor. So, naturally, she _loves_ IKEA. She loves the showroom and dreaming about all the possibilities for all the furniture and trying out couches and beds (even if she doesn’t actually _need_ any of what she’s trying out) and the Swedish meatballs and the funny, all-wheel drive shopping carts.

IKEA is such an _adventure_ and El could spend all day there, taking pictures and drawing inspiration. Plus, she’s going with Mike, so that’ll be fun. Yeah, she’s a little nervous because she’s about to out herself as the world’s biggest nerd, but she also figures it’s better to get that out _now_ while she and Mike are still getting to know each other rather until after they’re friends when it’ll be the most embarrassing.

And, speaking of Mike, there’s the _final_ source of her inability to fall asleep. She’s _painfully_ aware that this incredibly cute guy is sleeping just on the other side of the wall of her bedroom and it’s so distracting. God, just the thought of being next to Mike while he’s sleeping - his face soft and relaxed and so, _so_ cute - is enough to make her pulse race like she’s just ran a marathon. El wonders if Mike’s a cuddler or if he spreads out and it’s sad just how much she _desperately_ wants to know the answer to that question even though wondering about makes her stomach swoop dizzyingly.

 _Well, his bed’s certainly big enough for that,_ a corner of El’s mind pipes up with and El can feel her face heat up at the thought of _his bed._

When El poked her head in earlier to ask Mike if he wanted to join her while she made dinner, she hadn’t been unable to ignore the king-sized bed in the middle of the room - the bed, neatly made, covered in a dark green bedspread while Mike lay stretched out on top of it with a book in hand, partially reclining against the headboard as he read - and her first thought had been _ooh, room for two!_ before she viciously squashed it, proud of how she kept a straight face throughout it all.

She’d been able to ignore the thoughts of _Mike_ and _bed_ the rest of the night as she made dinner - the distraction of her dad calling and being his normal asshole-of-a-troll self definitely helped get her mind onto other things - but once she’d showered and climbed into bed, El couldn’t help how the thoughts resurfaced. Especially not when she eventually  hears Mike moving around in the apartment, her ears highly attuned to every new noise she hears on the other side of her door - the creak of the hardwood in the hallway as he walks towards his room, followed by the faint click of his door latching shut.

 _He’s in his room, right now. Probably getting dressed for bed._ El’s breath catches in her throat at the path she finds her thoughts taking.

_Mike getting undressed, taking off his shirt, exposing his bare chest before removing his pants. Does he wear pajamas? Or does he sleep in his underwear? Or does he sleep in **anything at all**? _

El clenches her jaw and takes in a deep breath, mentally clamping down on her train of thought before it can go any further. She’s _not_ going to imagine her new roommate naked. Nope, not going there, _not at all._

But her heart’s racing, her skin feels tight and tingly, and her cheeks heat up with a blush that makes her glad the lights are off because it would be visible from space, it’s that bright.

 _Oh god, how am I going to handle this?_ El thinks, her stomach sinking a bit. Because she can’t deny that she’s so very attracted to Mike - she’s emotionally mature enough to admit it, if only to herself. Like, apparently he’s _exactly_ her type and she’s _just_ finding this out now that she’s signed a lease to live with him for the next year or so and she has _the worst_ timing ever in the history of anything.

El grabs one of her pillows and smooshes it over her face so she can let out a muffled scream that gets trapped in the stuffing.

God, she’s the worst kind of fool. How does she get herself into situations like this? Especially when her heart’s so bad at drawing the line. Like, just because she’s attracted to someone doesn’t mean she has to develop feelings for them. Yet it’s what _always happens_ because her heart’s an idiot who doesn’t know what’s good for it.

And, in this case, what’s good for it is _not_ falling in love with her roommate. That just invites in all sorts of awkwardness and potential for horrible fallout and El’s not here for it. Not at all. Not when she’s just about to embark on her _career._

 _Besides, it’s not like he’s attracted to you, too. Remember how quick he was to get away from you in the kitchen?_ her brain _oh so helpfully_ reminds her.

The thought brings her crashing back down to Earth and El’s glad for it even as her stomach twists. Because she needs the reality check. It’s the only thing that’s going to keep her heart from running away with her feelings and turning this into something it really, _really_ isn’t.

Still, it’s a little sad and El rolls over in bed, hugging her pillow close, breathing in the smell of home.

_Oh well, at least there’s still IKEA._

 

* * *

  
El wakes up the next morning bright and early, excited but a little sore - _yeah, I need a new mattress._ Her back _definitely_ doesn’t like the mattress that came with the room and she feels the muscles around her spine twinge and pull as she sits up in bed.

But it’s not enough to dampen her excitement.

Because she’s going to IKEA and she _can’t wait._

El grabs her phone off the nightstand and unplugs it, checking the time. It’s just past 7:30 in the morning and everything’s quiet. _Mike must not be up yet,_ El thinks as she pushes herself out of bed, cringing as she gets to her feet.

She goes through her morning routine before she changes out of her PJs, dressing in a tank top and flowy skirt that hits her just above the knees, piling her hair in a messy bun as she leaves her room.

The apartment’s quiet as she enters the hallway and El looks to her left to see that Mike’s bedroom door is still closed. Well, it’s not like they were going to head out until 9 anyway, so she’s not too worried.

But, if Mike’s anything like her, then he’s going to need coffee.

Coffee _and_ breakfast.

So, El pads her way down the hall, feet quiet against the hardwood floors before she enters the kitchen, intent on making enough food to fuel their journey out to IKEA.

It takes her a bit of trial and error, poking around the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen, but El eventually gets the coffee going (cringing at the loud whir of the grinder) and whips up a breakfast of eggs and French toast. She _would_ have made waffles - hell, she even found a waffle iron - but there’s no buttermilk and it’s just not waffles without buttermilk. So she settles on the second best breakfast griddle food and makes her famous French toast instead.

She’s just putting together a plate to stick in the oven to keep warm for when Mike wakes up when she hears the sound of his door opening. _Naturally, the smell of food and coffee lures the young adult male from his den,_ El thinks with a smile.

El can hear his shuffling footsteps move down the hall and she turns just as Mike comes into view, wearing a black polo and dark jeans. “Morning,” she says, giving him a bright smile that is maybe tinged with too much excitement. She can’t help it, though. It’s IKEA day!

“Morning,” Mike says, his voice rough with sleep, giving her a look that is part curious, part hopeful. “Please tell me that’s coffee I smell.”

“And French toast!” El says, all chipper as she leans into her excitement. Really, it’s the only way she can distract herself from how _good_ Mike’s voice sounds early in the morning, all low and gravelly and _oh god._ “You wanna sit down at the table? I’ll bring everything over.”

Mike just stares at her, a bit blearily, blinking a couple of times before he gives her a small smile. “God, can you just, like, _never_ leave? You’re going to ruin all other roommates for me.”

“That’s me, Little Miss Overachiever,” El says as she shoos him away. “Now, go sit down before you fall back asleep standing up.”

“Sorry, I’m not really a morning person,” Mike says as he turns and shuffles his way over to the table.

“I can see that,” El says, turning her back so she can prepare a couple of mugs of coffee for the both of them.

“You’re pretty upbeat this morning,” Mike says as he sits down, the legs of the chair scraping a bit against the floor as his weight settles in the seat. “Take it you slept ok?”

“Hmm, not really,” El says, only half paying attention to her words as she pours coffee and preps the add-ins to bring to the table. “I’m just excited about IKEA. Where, by the way, I’m going to look at getting a new mattress. The one in there is too soft for me. No offense to your friend, or anything, but I need it harder.”

It hits her as the words are leaving her mouth just how _dirty_ that sounded and El’s so glad she’s not looking at Mike as she hears his breath catch in his throat in an awkward, choking cough. She closes her eyes as she cringes, hands going still where she’s wrapped her fingers around the handles of the mugs, her face heating up in a fierce blush. _Yes, great, make awkward double entendres that almost kill your new friend. Fantastic job, Hopper._ She takes in a deep, if shaky breath before she opens her eyes and soldiers on. No better way to move past it than to pretend it never happened in the first place.

“I mean, I’m not expecting to bring a new mattress home today - I’m not sure if it’ll even fit in your car - so I’ll probably just have it delivered,” El says as she goes out to the dining nook, both mugs held in one hand, while a small container of half and half is in the other hand. “Anyway, here’s your coffee. I’m not sure how you take it, so that’s up to you.”

“Oh, thanks. I usually just use half and half,” Mike says, smiling up at her a little faintly. There’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks - probably because of her horrible double entendre earlier (god, can she just _not_ be the most awkward person on the face of the planet and stop making her roommate uncomfortable already?).

“Oh, good, same here,” El says. “Hold on, let me grab breakfast.”

The awkwardness passes from one moment to the next as El goes into the kitchen and comes back with two plates plus silverware in each hand, the bottle of maple syrup tucked in her elbow.

“Wow, El, this looks amazing. Thank you, honestly,” Mike says, looking at her as she sets the food down on the table.

El glances at him, her stomach doing a wobbly flip at the way Mike’s smiling at her, and she manages to smile back. “Well, you’re driving and it’s an hour each way. This took me, what, 20 minutes to whip together? Not at all comparable,” she says as she sits.

“Still,” Mike says, the word heavy with meaning - gratitude without feeling deserving of it, guilt of not helping - and El’s heart squeezes at the sound. Does no one do anything nice for Mike just because? But he’s so... _nice._ Literally, he’s one of the sweetest guys she’s ever met; he deserves to have people do nice things for him.

Well, if that’s the case, El’s going to be the best friend to him she can possibly be. “Don’t think anything of it,” she says before she takes a sip of her coffee. “Honestly, I’m happy to do it.”

Mike stares over at her like he’s confused by her sheer existence before he shakes his head, breathing out a quiet laugh. “Anyway, what did you want to get at IKEA today?” he asks.

El grins, her excitement coming to the fore. “God, what _don’t_ I want to get?” she fires back. “I’m sorry you have to find out this way, but I should warn you that I’m, like, the world’s weirdest nerd on the face of the planet. Like, I fucking _love_ IKEA and home decor stores. I spend way too much of my free time scouring Pinterest for cute things to put around the house or inspiration for DIY projects. I practically eat, sleep, and breathe the HGTV channel.” She grins, taking a bite of her eggs. “There,” she says after she swallows. “Now you know the depths of my nerdiness.”

Mike snorts. “Please. I grew up playing Dungeons and Dragons. Compared to that, your obsession with interior design is practically fucking normal.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” El says, narrowing her eyes at Mike. “Unless you’ve spent hours waiting in line for Black Friday sales at Michael’s, I don’t know if you can lay claim to the title of nerdiest person at this table.”

“Oh? Well, that’s _nothing,_ ” Mike says, eyes narrowing as he grins - _challenge accepted._ “Let me tell you about the time when my friends and I….”

The conversation continues well past breakfast, both of them trying to outdo each other with how they’re so much nerdier than the other, and they only move onto talking about nerdy things they both enjoy by the time they’re halfway to IKEA, El in the passenger seat while Mike drives his older Toyota Corolla, the radio a dim buzz in the background as their conversation drowns it out.

It’s a great car ride. Mike’s attention is mostly on the road and, since the two of them are talking, El has a reason to keep her attention focused on him, which gives her the opportunity to just _stare_ at Mike. She gladly takes advantage of the opportunity, drinking in the sight of the sweep of his cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the length of his neck.

She’s fascinated with the way he occasionally reaches up to push his hair out of his face, his long, graceful fingers cutting through the locks like fins through water. Or with the way he grips the steering wheel with one hand, the other resting lightly on his knee, tapping out mindless patterns when he’s not gesturing animatedly with it.

Every once in a while, though, he’ll glance over at her, eyes sparkling with humor, lips quirking up with a smile, and it makes El’s heart skip several beats every time.

Honestly, it’s just not fair how incredibly attractive he is. But El knows there’s no ignoring this and she’s trying to work towards a place where she can accept this fact, where she can appreciate it without the danger if it becoming more. _It’ll happen,_ she thinks...or, rather, she _hopes._

But then, all thoughts of that go flying out of her head as the distinctive yellow and blue comes up on the horizon.

They’ve _finally_ arrived at IKEA.

And, for the moment, El lets that drown out everything else.

 

* * *

  
Mike’s never been to IKEA before.

Yes, he’s _heard_ of it - heard stories about Swedish meatballs and mazes of furniture and homegoods with strange sounding names and flat pack furniture that makes people want to kill themselves and others when they put it together.

But Mike’s just never had a reason to _go._ It’s always been one of those weird cultural phenomenons he’s just observed from the outside.

Until now.

And, honestly, he’s kind really glad his first time going here is with El. Because she’s just so _excited_ that he can’t help but get caught up in it too.

The hour-long drive to get there passes by in a blur of laughter and conversation. Mike’s mostly focused on the road, but every once in a while, he looks over at El to see her focused on him as they talk, her smiles bright and beautiful and so very disarming. If she ever watches the scenery go by, Mike can’t tell, because every time he looks at her, she’s looking back at him, like she’s 100% engaged in the conversation they’re having, like there’s literally nothing else she would rather be doing. And it knocks him off his equilibrium a bit, having the full weight of such a beautiful woman’s attention resting squarely on him.

But that changes once Mike spots the building his GPS is guiding him too, all bright blue with equally bright yellow lettering. He can see it out of the corner of his eyes that El’s noticed it too because her whole body turns to face forward and she’s practically vibrating in her seat as he pulls into the parking lot.

It’s literally the most adorable thing he’s ever seen in his entire life.

So much so that Mike can’t help but chuckle as he parks the car, getting a spot that’s about as close as he can manage. “Holy shit, you weren’t lying,” he says through his amusement. “You _really_ love IKEA.”

Mike looks over in time to see El smiling back at him, the expression just shy of manic with how excited she is, her smile blindingly brilliant and giddy. “Told you,” she says as she leans over to grab her purse, her eyes never leaving him. “You still wanna be roommates with me?”

Mike smiles back, unable to stop himself. “Well, you _did_ sign the lease, so I guess it’s a little late to be backing out now.”

They get out of the car, but El keeps the conversation going. “Wait, what about ‘it’s not too late to kick you off the lease’?” she says, lowering her voice in an attempt to mimic his.

“Hey, no throwing my previous words back in my face,” Mike says through a laugh. “That’s just rude.”

El giggles as they walk through the parking lot. “Ooh, is Mike Wheeler afraid of a little accountability?”

Mike glares over at her, the effect ruined by the fact that he’s still smiling a little. “You know, I thought we could be friends. But you’re mean.”

“Mean? _Me?_ ” El asks with a dramatic gasp, hand pressed to her heart as she flutters her eyelashes. “I _never._ ”

“Oh my god, you’re such a drama queen,” Mike says with a roll of his eyes. But he’s smiling still as he says it and it hits him, in this moment, that he can’t remember the last time he had this much _fun._

They’re nearly to the front end of the parking lot by this point and El looks over at him with an exaggerated pout. “I don’t deserve to be called out like this on IKEA Day.”

At that, Mike just _loses_ it. “IKEA Day!” he gasps out through a sudden laugh. “You named a _day_ after it?”

“Shut up,” El grumbles, but there’s a twinkle in her eye that belies her pouty face. And, a couple of seconds later, she’s laughing, too, her higher pitched giggles blending all too well with his lower sounding laugh, the combined sound so rich and full, it makes Mike’s heart thump painfully in his chest.

The laughter lasts all the way until their just inside the automatic sliding doors and Mike follows the steady stream of people heading towards the escalator up to the second floor-

-only to stop when El’s arm shoots out, barring him from going forward. “Wait,” she says. Mike looks over to see El standing next to him, her eyes closed, head tipped back slightly, her lips stretched up in a soft smile. “Let us have a moment to appreciate the gravity of the occasion.”

It’s weird, being simultaneously amused and exacerbated at El while also being so very attracted to the beautiful sight in front of him - El’s just _so pretty,_ wearing a soft, pale teal skirt and a white tank top, her skin glowing in contrast to the colors, the neckline of her tank top showing off the lithe curves of her shoulders and collarbones. And the look on her face makes him feel like he’s been punched in the gut, all rapturous and ecstatic, yet completely at peace.

_So beautiful._

Mike gives himself a mental shake to clear his head of its traitorous thoughts before he _actually_ shakes his head, this time in incredulity. “Is this a religious experience for you or something?”

“Closest thing to it, really,” El says, opening her eyes. Her bright, giddy smile re-establishes itself and she bounces on her toes, all eager like a 5 year old on Christmas morning. “Alright! Come on, let’s go!”

And then, in her exuberance, El grabs Mike’s hand like it’s no big deal - _like his heart hasn’t just leapt up into his throat at the touch of her skin to his_ \- and drags him over to the escalator. She lets go of his hand so she can grab the railing as they get carried up to the second floor, but Mike’s still feeling a little off-kilter and he reaches out for the railing as well, if only for something to steady him.

And then they get to the top of the escalator and, with the showroom floor stretched out in front of the, El turns around to look at him, smiling so wide, face so bright that it must rival the sun. “Isn’t this _amazing?_ ” she breathes, voice full of awe and happiness, and Mike’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

_Well, shit._

God, this whole “not having a crush on his roommate” thing is off to a _glorious_ start, isn’t it?

Mike gulps and takes in a deep breath. He _can_ be an adult about this. He swears he can be.

Yeah, he really can’t.

Turns out El in IKEA is just the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen. She oohs and ahhs over every cute lamp or decorative candle holder; she closely scrutinizes each showroom, peeking into drawers and closets to look at various storage solutions; she takes picture after picture of the room layouts, storing ideas away, murmuring to herself all the while.

El also tries out almost every couch and chair and, if she likes them, she’ll pull Mike along to sit with her on the couch with her or push him into the chair she’s just vacated so he can try it out for himself. Every time she grabs his hand, Mike feels his heart beat so hard, he’s surprised it doesn’t burst out of his chest. And, worst of all, Mike’s not even sure El’s aware she’s doing in, that she keeps _grabbing_ him - she’s riding the high of being in IKEA that it seems to have blocked out everything else.

He somehow manages to keep it together each time it happens though, barely even flinching, and he’s able to pretend like butterflies aren’t invading his stomach each time it happens.

But then... _the mattresses._

After they move past the couches and chairs, the hand holding stops for a bit as El focuses on picking out a small bookcase and desk for her new room (Mike both misses the hand-holding and is thankful it stopped - it’s a contradiction that he just knows is going to keep him up at night). By the time El’s picked out the pieces she wants to grab and they’re passing through the kitchen and dining room sections, Mike’s completely forgotten El’s comments about wanting to replace the mattress Will left behind.

And then they get to the part of the showroom floor dedicated to bedroom furniture.

“Ooh, beds!” El practically fucking _chirps_ as they stare out at a sea of mattresses.

And, suddenly, all Mike can hear in his head is this: _I need it harder._

His face immediately burns bright red. He’d managed to suppress all memory of El saying those words, managed to completely forget how he choked like a goddamn idiot on his own saliva as those words wheedled their way into his brain like a parasite and started broadcasting image after suggestive image into the forefront of his mind, making him blush and forget how to breathe.

Really, the only saving grace of that moment was that it was clear El felt just as awkward, if the way she fell silent for several long seconds just after was any indication. Luckily, she kept going like it hadn’t happened, which helped Mike shove the moment to the back of his mind.

Until now.

Mike feels rooted to the floor as he watches El all but run towards the rows of beds set up, but he manages to trail after her a couple of seconds later, feet shuffling a bit on the ground as he ducks his head and tries to will his face to cool down. While Mike follows along behind her, El uses her hands to test various mattresses, checking to see if they meet her qualifications.

And then El gets to the point where she just has to _try_ them.

As Mike watches, feeling more and more awkwardly uncomfortable with each passing second, El gingerly sits down on the edge of one of the queen-sized mattresses. She bounces on it a bit before she swings her feet up and just _falls_ back so she’s lying down completely. El’s lips twist, pursing as she shifts and rearranges herself on the mattress, trying to figure out if she likes it or not.

El turns to look at him, then, her face serious and concerned. “Hey, come here and lay down with me,” she says as she pats the empty space on the mattress next to her with a delicate hand. “I need a second opinion.”

Once again, Mike’s heart leaps into his throat.

She’s asking him - _him,_ Mike Wheeler, king of the nerds - to lay down next to her in bed.

...Well, ok, not _in_ bed. And not for _that,_ no matter what a certain segment of his brain is fixating on. She’s just trying out mattresses after all.

Gulping, because he can’t say no, not even as his blood races in his veins so fast that he knows he’s trembling a little, Mike walks around to the other side of the bed and slowly lays down, trying _very hard_ not to let his imagination run wild on him in just this moment. But it runs away from him _anyway,_ taunting him with images of just what people can do in bed together, casting him and El in the starring roles.

 _Oh god, this was a horrible decision,_ Mike thinks. She’s just so close - _too_ close. The heat of her lying just next to him seeps into him, his bare arm barely just brushing up against her elbow. He feels like he’s about to burst out of his skin and his heart is racing and his stomach is swooping with the power of a thousand butterflies.

How in the hell does he get himself into these situations _all the time?_ Mike figures he literally has to be the most awkward, unluckiest person on the face of the planet to constantly find himself at the very edge of his comfort zone.

“So, what do you think?”

Mike hears the shift of El’s hair against the mattress as she turns her head. “Hmm?” Mike asks, looking over, hoping and praying that he doesn’t look like a total idiot right now.

El’s giving him an expectantly curious look, eyebrows gently arched above beseeching eyes, big and gold-flecked and gorgeous. “The mattress. Does it feel like a good one?”

Mike can’t answer for what feels like several seconds because he’s too busy just _staring_ at her. He can’t take his eyes off of her, lying there with her skirt tangled around her thighs just so; her hair threatening to spill from it’s messy bun, wisps having escaped and lightly framing her face; lips pursed with consideration, looking _so very kissable._

Jesus Christ, how is it he’s barely known this woman a week and she’s already gotten him all twisted around and upside down?

_Snap out of it, you idiot!_

The thought is enough to jolt him into some semblance of normalcy and, thankfully, Mike feels a flash of smartass humor pierce through the fog of attraction. “I don’t know,” he says, lips quirking with a mostly suppressed grin. “Is it _hard_ enough for you?”

El both blushes fiercely and rolls her eyes before she looks up at the ceiling, her hands coming up to cover her eyes as she groans in despair. “Oh god, why did you have to remind me of that?” She takes in a deep breath before she lowers her hands and looks back over at him, cheeks still flushed. “I’m so sorry about that, by the way. My mouth sometimes gets ahead of me.”

Mike chuckles, shrugging his shoulders the best he can while lying flat on his back. “Join the club. I think if you look up the phrase ‘Open Mouth, Insert Foot’, you’ll find my picture right next to it.”

“With mine right beneath it, for sure,” El says with a laugh that trails off into a sigh.

“But, anyway, I guess it really doesn’t matter what I think. It’s _your_ mattress.”

El cringes a little. “True, but I’m horrible at making decisions. I’m always afraid I’m going to make the wrong choice so I tend to second guess myself a lot. It’s why I ask for other people’s opinions,” she says.

“Totally get it,” Mike says, sympathizing. He struggles with pretty much that exact same issue. “It’s just that the only opinion that matters here is yours.”

El frowns, like that isn’t what she wanted to hear, and shifts on the surface of the mattress, settling in as she tests it out. The motion does some... _interesting_ things to her body that Mike absolutely _cannot_ bring himself to look away from. But he holds it together and, a couple of moments later, El sits up in a rush.

“Nope, not right,” she says, legs swinging over the edge before she gets to her feet.

Mike follows suit, a smile on his face. “Alright then, Goldilocks. Go try another one.”

So she does. She tries out several, actually. And it only takes until after El asking him for the third time to try out whichever mattress with her for Mike to get the hint that she’s expecting him to try them _all_ out with her.

Mike does, of course - he really is starting to think that there might not be anything she could ask him for that he wouldn’t say no to.  And every time he lays down next to her, his heart raced and his skin tingles and he just feels way too warm, each time a little more so than the last.

But, somewhat conversely, Mike also gets better at handling the way his body reacts, to the point where it becomes, while not entirely ignorable, close enough to background noise that Mike can pretend like he’s not experiencing the most lovesick sensations he’s ever felt in his entire life.

El eventually settles on a mattress, taking a picture of the tag like she did with the bookcase and desk she picked out so she can grab them from downstairs. And then she looks over at him with that beautiful smile of hers and tilts her head in the direction of the path through the showroom. “So, wanna go grab some lunch?”

Mike’s heart skips a beat (or 5) at the sight of her smile and adorable head tilt, but he manages to grin back at her. “Are we going to have the infamous meatballs?”

El arches an eyebrow. “It’s an experience that shouldn’t be missed and I will not have you mocking it.”

Mike holds up his hands in apology. “No mocking here,” he says. “Besides, I’m hungry, so lunch sounds like a great idea.”

They eat lunch in what looks like a giant cafeteria, laughing and talking while Mike discovers that Swedish meatballs aren’t all that bad, before they head downstairs to grab the items El’s picked out. Mike groans as he sees the maze of the marketplace ahead of them and he realizes they’re going to be at IKEA for at least another couple of hours.

“Oh my god, how big is this place?” Mike asks as El grabs a cart.

“Why?” El asks, looking at him over her shoulder, a sly grin on her lips. “Can’t keep up?”

Mike glares at her. “Oh, I can keep up, that’s not the problem,” he says, voice arching just a bit. “I just don’t know how we’re going to get out of here and have room in the car for all the stuff you’re going to buy.”

El pouts at him. “You’ll be able to see out the windshield, I promise.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Great, that makes me feel _so_ much better.”

Mike lets El lead him through the downstairs of IKEA, where she grabs things not just for her room, but for the rest of the apartment as well - a couple of lamps, some storage containers, and various other odds and ends. By the time they grab the bookcase and the desk from the warehouse, Mike’s _exhausted_. His feet hurt and he just wants to sit down.

But El seems just as energized as when they first arrive and he has to marvel at her stamina. “You really love this place, don’t you?” he asks as they stand in line to pay for her things.

“I do,” El says as she looks up at him. “Sorry for forcing you to spend your whole Sunday in a giant furniture store, though.”

Mike shrugs, a small smile spreading across his face. “Nah, it’s ok. Didn’t have any plans today, anyway. And, this way, I got to spend time getting to know my new roommate better,” he says, nudging her arm with his elbow.

El giggles, even as she’s rolling her eyes. “You dork,” she says around an amused sigh.

“Hey, Little Miss I-Love-IKEA, I don’t think you really have a leg to stand on with there. If I’m a dork, then you are, too.”

“That’s fair,” El says after a moment, eyebrow quirking as she concedes his point. “Looks like we’re both just really big nerds.”

Mike’s heart does a funny flip in his chest at the sound of that and it takes him until he’s waiting for El to finish ordering her mattress to be shipped to the apartment to realize something very important.

El Hopper’s _perfect._

She’s bright and beautiful and funny and smart and nerdy and literally everything he’s ever wanted in a woman.

And she’s his _roommate_ \- untouchably within arm’s reach; a woman Mike could so easily seeing himself falling for, but the one he absolutely can’t have. He can’t lie to himself any longer: yes, he may have been lonely, but that’s only part of why Mike’s so fascinated with El. Because he’s just realized that El is his perfect woman. But, they’re living together and the potential fallout if things go wrong causes anxiety to swirl uneasily in his stomach as he imagines the awkwardness that would exist if they still had to live together after trying and failing at a relationship.

Never mind the fact that the odds of El having anything more than friendly feelings for Mike are just astronomical - beautiful women like that don’t look twice at men like him, in Mike’s experience. So, really, developing feelings for El would just lead to disappointment.

So, no matter how beautiful or amazing Mike thinks El is, he’s not allowed to fall in love with her, not allowed to want to be more than friends. And he _knows_ this, the truth of it ringing bright in his brain like an unassailable fact, as sad as it is.

Now he just needs his heart to go along it.

 

* * *

  
They get everything home just fine - though getting everything upstairs takes a bit of work since the box containing the desk is _heavy_ \- but El spends the rest of the evening assembling her furniture. Mike offers to help, but El tells him she’s got this and Mike’s both a little sad and very relieved that she turns him down.

Because being in her presence is intoxicating... _too_ much so and he realizes he should probably limit how much time he spends with her until he can figure out a way to absolutely not fall in love with her.

So Mike limits himself to checking in on El from time to time. Her door’s open, so it’s easy to poke his head in and ask how things are going. But that’s about the extent of their interaction for the rest of the day.

Which is good because Mike feels like he might crawl out of his own skin. He’s so fucking hyper-aware of El’s presence in the apartment - like a flashing neon sign, in his face and impossible to ignore if he wanted to - and it’s making him antsy.

It’s a sensation that doesn’t fade as he settles down for bed that night and it takes him way too long to fall asleep, despite the fact that Mike has discussion sections tomorrow for the summer classes he’s TAing and he needs to be somewhat on top of his academic game.

He sleeps poorly that night and wakes up out of a light and restless sleep about 10 minutes before his alarm is supposed to go off feeling like he’s barely slept at all. Mike sighs as he pushes himself out of bed - _might as well go on a run before it gets too hot outside._

He finally emerges from his room about 5 minutes later, dressed in running shorts and a moisture-wicking t-shirt. The apartment’s quiet and El’s door is closed, so he figures she’s still sleeping. Still, a shiver ripples down his spine as he passes her door and Mike just shakes his head at himself as he heads into the kitchen to get everything set up so he can make coffee when he gets back.

Yes, a run is a great idea right now.

Maybe, if he runs hard enough, he can outrun the way he seems to be in danger of falling in love with his new roommate.

 

* * *

  
El thinks she maybe hears movement out in the apartment about an hour before she fully wakes up, but the apartment is completely silent as her feet hit the floor.

El winces as her muscles pull and stretch, sore from a full day of walking around and then assembling and maneuvering furniture, and she pads out into the hallway, bare feet on the hardwood floor. She glances over to Mike’s bedroom, the door wide open, but it’s occupant nowhere to be found.

 _Wonder where he went off to so early in the morning,_ El thinks before she shrugs and heads out to the kitchen, still wearing only her PJs which, since it’s summer, are sleep shorts and a thin camisole. Her hands busy themselves with redoing the messy bun she’d tossed her hair up into before she went to bed and she yawns as she enters the kitchen.

To her pleasant surprise, Mike seems to have set everything up to make coffee - all she has to do is grind the beans and get the coffee maker started. She disappears back into her room once the coffee is brewing to grab her phone and, as she’s unplugging her phone, she hears the sound of the front door opening - _Mike’s back._

With a small smile on her face, El walks out back out into the living room-

-just in time to see Mike, clearly having come back from a run, kicking the door shut with one foot while he reaches up and strips off his sweat-soaked shirt. It gets caught in the cord of his headphones, the earbuds still firmly in his ears, and Mike lets out a low string of curses as he works to untangle himself.

But El really doesn’t care about _any_ of that right now. Not when she’s frozen in place, completely unable and unwilling to look away from the sight of her mostly naked roommate. Mike’s just wearing running shorts and shoes, now, his face pulled in a look of consternation. The skin of his arms and chest shines with a thin layer of sweat, which only highlights the lines of his torso, the ridges and valleys of lean muscle, skin looking so smooth and touchable and _oh god is she drooling? She might be._

El’s breath has been stolen from her by the display right in front of her, her heart racing, blood heating up in her veins. She can’t stop the way her body’s reacting to seeing Mike shirtless and sweaty, like it’s turned on some primal switch in the back of her brain. He’s just _so beautiful,_ all lean lines and smooth skin, and El _so badly_ wants to trace those lines with her hands, fingers touching firm muscle, her mouth following behind.

Suddenly, everything feels _too hot_ and El knows she has to be blushing bright enough that it’s probably visible from space.

Mike realizes she’s there a couple of seconds later and that blush goes from aroused to aroused _and_ embarrassed. He stares back at her after giving a bit of a start when he realizes she’s here. Mike’s looking at her with wide eyes, lips parted a little in shock, but if he’s blushing, El can’t tell beneath the flush of exertion that was already on his cheeks.

And then, in way that she feels as well as sees, Mike’s gaze slowly travels down her body and El is _very aware_ that her camisole is thin and her sleep shorts are short and _oh god neither of them is wearing near enough clothing._

El finds her voice and clears her throat, which causes Mike’s gaze to snap back up to her face (and, she won’t lie, it’s nice to know that he might find her physically attractive, if the way her body warms is any indication). “Um, morning,” she says with a voice that sounds a little too breathless for her own liking. “So, a runner, huh?”

“Um, yeah, helps me clear my brain,” Mike says, his voice maybe a little lower than normal, though that could also be from the exertion.

“Do you, uh, normally strip down after walking back in the door after a run?” El asks, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest - she’s clothed, everything covered that needs to be covered, so why does she feel so naked right now?

At the question, Mike cringes and looks away, quickly finishing detangling his headphones from his shirt. “Sorry about that,” he says as he finally frees his shirt from his headphones. “It’s, uh...habit.” He holds his shirt to his chest, shifting uneasily on his feet. “So, I’m just, um, going to take a shower?”

“Ok, sounds good,” El says, watching as Mike starts to walk towards her.

 _Do you want company?_ her brain whispers as she steps aside to let him pass, her breath catching in her throat at the thought of being in the shower with him. El glances up at him when he’s only inches away and Mike looks over at her nearly at the same time, his steps faltering. Their gazes lock and, suddenly, El _really_ can’t breathe. The air between them, their bodies only separated by inches, fills with tension, hot and aching, making El’s skin feel too tight, her heart race dangerously in her chest. She fights the urge to lick her lips, her mouth having gone dry, because the last thing she wants is to draw attention to her mouth.

_God, she needs to stop this **right now**. _

Mike moves past her, hurrying down the hallway, and when he’s disappeared behind his closed bedroom door, El can finally breathe again. Her shoulders slump as her breath escapes her in a rush and she presses hand over her pounding heart, closing her eyes as she tries to calm herself down.

_Ok, I’m both physically and sexually attracted to the nicest, sweetest man I’ve ever met, a man who I’ve just met who’s also my goddamn roommate, literally the **last** person I should be attracted to. Yeah, this isn’t going to be awkward **at all**. _

But it is. _So very_ awkward.

Once Mike comes back out from showering and El’s thrown on a thin robe over her her PJs, it becomes painfully clear that the awkwardness is here to stay - silences lasting just a little too long, gazes a little heavy and unsure.

It’s an awkwardness that becomes their constant companion, like a third roommate that no one wanted, as they settled into a routine over the next couple of weeks. El gets really good at ignoring it, too, though it sometimes rears its ugly head after a couple of really unfortunate incidents.

Like, during El’s second weekend in the apartment, when Mike accidentally walks in on her changing in her room, having forgotten to knock, both of them freezing as El stands there in just her bra and underwear, before they both freak out, El yelling at him to close the door, Mike profusely apologizing. It’s an incident they _refuse_ to talk about and El’s hoping it never comes up ever again.

Or, like when they are trying to maneuver around each other in the tiny kitchen and El hip checks Mike in the groin fairly hard as she turns, and _then_ manages to trip in her haste to move away and apologize, sending them both to the ground, El bruising her elbow as she lands hard on the tile beneath their feet.

Some of it, for sure, is just the normal growing pains of getting used to living with someone - El expected this.

She really just wasn’t expecting to be so painfully attracted to her roommate at the same time.

But, other than that, everything’s been going really well. Yeah, she discovers some things about Mike that annoy her - like he tends to leave half finished water glasses around the apartment and he has a horrible habit of putting back milk in the fridge when there’s just a few tablespoons left in the carton - but, overall, Mike’s a good roommate. A great one, even.

El has fun hanging out with him while they make and eat dinner, the two of them talking about nothing and everything. And it’s nice to have someone to hang out with on the couch as they watch movies. Mike’s funny and nice and a great conversationalist; El finds herself easily losing track of time when they talk. The more she gets to know him, the more excited she is to be gaining him as a friend.

_(she's also very aware just how easy it would be to fall in love with mike wheeler, how **perfect** he is for her - nice and sweet and nerdy and gorgeous and just everything she's ever wanted in a man. but it's also the worst idea in the history of time, to fall in love with a person she has to share a living space without any assurances that nothing bad will happen. so el does what she does best with her emerging feelings:  **she ignores them**.) _

And then there’s her new job, which she starts the Monday after her second weekend in Chicago. There’s an onboarding process that’ll last a few months before she has her own cases to manage, but she likes her co-workers and everyone there is passionate about the work that they do. El is more and more certain as the days to by that she absolutely made the right decision with her career choice.

But, even still, El’s happy for the weekend as she comes home from work on the Friday of her first week. The only thing she really doesn’t like about her job is having to wake up at 6 in the morning so she can get ready and get to work by 8. So she’s _really_ looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow morning.

When El gets home, the apartment is empty, all the lights off. There’s a half-full glass of water on the coffee table next to a couple of Mike’s books - like he was packing up to leave on the couch - but there’s no trace of him otherwise. She’s still learning Mike’s work schedule, but she thinks she remembers him saying that he had late discussions on Friday during the summer semester, so she’s not surprised to find herself as the only person home at shortly after 5.

_Hmm, what to do with the apartment to myself?_

Grinning at the first idea that comes to mind, El takes a detour to change out of her work clothes and into a loose-knit sweater over a camisole and capri leggings, feeling both comfy _and_ cute, before she heads back out to the kitchen.

A great first week at work totally deserves to be celebrated with cookies. And it’s been way too long since El’s baked anything.

She cues up one of her favorite playlists on her phone and gets to baking, gathering ingredients to make her favorite double chocolate chip cookies, singing and dancing around the kitchen all the while.

El loses herself in the familiarity of baking, her movements sure in the routines of mixing ingredients and portioning out cookie dough onto aluminum sheets to bake in the oven.

She gets so wrapped up in what she’s doing, though - transferring cookies from a wire rack and onto a plate while she’s singing along with Halsey’s “Without Me” - that she completely misses the door opening behind her and the small crowd that enters the apartment…

 

* * *

  
It’s been an interesting couple of weeks, getting used to living with his insanely gorgeous roommate. El’s unlike any person Mike’s ever met in his entire life. She’s lively and vivacious and funny and sweet and just so amazing.

Oh yeah, and did he mention gorgeous? Because, _oh god,_ is she. El’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and everyday that goes by convinced him of that more and more.

(He tries not to think about last week when he accidentally walked in on her changing. But the sight of El standing in her room, wearing only a lacy bra and underwear set, dark purple and just shy of sheer and gorgeously framing the lithe curves of her body, is seared into his memory. He’s ashamed to say that he dreams of El like that, in just her underwear - _or nothing at all_ \- dreams that leave him wanting and frustrated and gasping for breath when he wakes, but he also knows there's no way he can stop it from happening.)

But she’s also a woman who’s slowly becoming his friend and Mike is willing to put up with the strange awkwardness that exists in all the empty spaces (he’s, like, 99% sure he’s the primary cause of the weird mood that surrounds them sometimes; his luck with women _and_ social interactions is, well... _not the best)_ if it means he gets to have El Hopper as a friend.

Yeah, he wishes sometimes that he didn’t find her hair _everywhere_ in the apartment - he’s even found strands of her hair in his bathroom, which is odd since El’s barely even been in his room, much less his _bathroom_ \- and her habit of leaving her shoes just in the doorway drives him up the wall a little bit. But he really likes hanging out with her, watching sci-fi movies and crime shows, or talking while they eat dinner (and _holy shit_ is she a fantastic cook; he might actually gain a little weight and not be such a fucking skeleton since he’s been eating more now that she’s moved in).

There’s really just one problem with his new roommate (besides the fact that she’s fucking gorgeous and he is way too attracted to her and every day is a bigger and bigger struggle not to fall madly in love with her):

Mike has yet to introduce her to the rest of the Party.

A fact that is suddenly and very urgently in his face as they all head to his apartment so Mike can drop off his things before they head out to their favorite bar a couple of blocks away. Mike carpooled to campus with Dustin and Lucas earlier that day and, as they headed back to Chicago proper, they picked up Will and Max after work before heading over to Mike’s apartment.

“So,” Dustin says, lips curling in a teasing grin as he looks over at Mike, who’s sitting behind the wheel. “Are we _finally_ going to get to meet your mysterious roommate?”

“Yeah, man, it’s been two weeks and you _still_ haven’t told us a thing about them,” Lucas says from behind Dustin.

Mike squirms in his seat - _oh god he’s told them **nothing** about El and they’re going to fucking **flip**_ \- but he manages to keep a hold of his cool. “Uh, yeah, probably,” is all Mike will say.

“Wow, vague much?” Max says, reaching out to slap Mike lightly on the shoulder. “What are they like? Are they cool? Cool enough to hang with us?”

Mike grins, trying to put a normal face on over the panic that’s piercing through him right now. “You’ll see,” he says before he focuses on driving. They’re only a couple of minutes away, so they’ll find out soon enough. Besides, Mike isn’t even sure if El’s home from work yet, so there’s no point in saying anything if he can maybe put off telling everyone he’s living with a beautiful woman for a little while longer.

But El _is_ home, if the sound of the music he can hear from the other side of the door is any indication, and Mike knows he has to say something to his friends before they all walk in, something so they won’t freak out in front of El and make her feel uncomfortable.

So, with his key in the door, the knob turned in his grip, Mike turns to look over his shoulder and breathes out a rushed sigh. “Ok, look, you guys can’t freak out, but my roommate is a woman who’s our age and who’s insanely beautiful, but who’s also really, _really_ nice, so don’t you _dare_ scare the crap out of her. And _please_ don’t embarrass me in front of her.”

And, before any of them have a chance to respond - they’re too busy all looking at him with shocked, wide-eyed expressions as his words slowly sink in - Mike opens the door and walks into the apartment. “Hey, El? I’m back. And I brought-” He stops as the smell of freshly baked cookies hits him in the face and he looks into the kitchen to see El dancing, her gorgeous voice ringing out as she sings along with whatever song she has blasting on her phone.

For a moment, he’s spellbound. It’s clear El’s been home from work for a while. She’s baking cookies and dressed in clothes that are more casual than the office attire she’d been wearing when she left earlier that morning. Her tight leggings and sheer sweater do nothing to hide the shape of her and her hair’s up in a ponytail that bounces along enticingly as she dances, her bare feet whispering against the tile floor. The whole thing is so domestic, so _homey,_ that Mike’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

_(how is she the embodiment of every dream he's ever had?)_

“Holy shit,” Mike hears Dustin breathe and he finds himself completely agreeing with the sentiment.

And then El turns around and lets out a little yelp as she notices there are other people in the apartment with her, her hand coming up to press over her heart - god, it’s adorable how caught up she got in dancing and baking cookies that she didn’t even notice them all walk in - but she recovers quickly, smiling so bright, Mike feels his heart stop for what feels like several beats before it picks back up at double time. “Mike, hi! And I see you brought friends?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Mike says, stumbling over his own tongue a bit - really, she’s just too beautiful, she short-circuits his thoughts every time he sees her. “Um, yeah, this is Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Will,” he says, pointing to all of them in turn. “Guys, this is my roommate, El.”

El wipes her hands on a kitchen towel and comes over to greet everyone, Mike’s gaze drawn to the sway of her hips as she moves. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you all,” she says, shaking everyone’s hand one at a time. None of them have said a word yet and Mike’s starting to worry that he’s broken all of them with this reveal. She pauses with Will, giving him a grin. “I take it you’re the former roommate?”

As Mike watches, it takes Max elbowing Will in the side for him to come back to himself enough to respond. “Oh, uh, yeah, that’s me,” Will says a little weakly. “How do you like the room?”

“It’s pretty good,” El says as she takes her hand away. “But, no offense, you have _horrible_ tastes in mattresses. There are _clouds_ that are firmer than the thing you left behind.”

Max lets out a cackle. “Ooh, you’ve only known us for 30 seconds and you’re already slinging thinly-veiled insults?” she says. “I like _you._ ”

El starts a bit, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry - my mouth runs away with me sometimes.”

“Is that _all_ your mouth does?” Dustin mutters under his breath. Mike elbows him _hard_ and Dustin lets out a yelp as he looks over at Mike, a combination of amusement, surprise, and annoyance dancing in his gaze.

“Shut up,” Mike mouths, glaring.

“You two want to share over there?” Will says.

“Nothing,” Lucas says - he heard what Dustin said, if the little cough he let out is any indication. “Dustin’s just being an idiot.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Dustin says, grinning, glancing at the rest of the Party before he looks over at El. “Anyway, it’s nice to finally meet Mike’s new roommate. Especially because he’s told us _nothing_ about you.”

El blinks in surprise, giving Mike an inscrutable look, before she lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Well, I’m nothing special, really. I moved here for work and needed somewhere to live. Luckily, Mike decided to let me rent the spare room.”

The Party except for Mike chuckles a bit. There was nothing lucky about it and the rest of the Party knows it, much to Mike’s dismay.  “Yeah, Mike’s a giving guy like that,” Lucas says, grinning.

“Yeah, he’s the best,” El says, winking over at Mike with exaggerated playfulness. A split second later, while Mike’s heart is threatening to burst from his chest with how sexy and adorable that wink was and _what did it mean when she called him the best,_ El lets out a gasp, her lips forming a soft “o” as her face lights up. “Oh, did you guys want any cookies? I’ve been baking since I got home from work.”

“That sounds delightful, El, thank you,” Dustin says with over-the-top niceness, looking over at Mike with a smile that is a hair too wide. Mike holds back a groan. Dustin’s being a little shit right now and Mike _knows_ he’s going to hear it once El’s out of earshot.

“Yeah, cookies sound great,” Max echoes.

El smiles. “Great!” She turns and grabs a plate that’s on the counter by the entrance to the kitchen. “Tell me what you guys think. I bake when I get bored, so I’ve tried out a lot of recipes and this one of the ones I really like.”

Everyone takes a cookie, even El before she puts the plate back down, and Mike spares a glance at the baked good, still warm in his hand, before he takes a bite. Again, he has to hold back a groan, but only because this cookie is so fucking good. Like, it’s the best cookie he’s ever had in his entire life. And, from the some of the sounds the rest of the Party is making, Mike’s pretty sure they agree.

“Wow, El, this is _really_ good,” Will says.

Dustin snorts, but the effect is lessened by how he’s busy shoveling half of the cookie into his mouth. “That’s an understatement,” Dustin says around a mouthful of chocolate chip. “I’m going to need another one of these.”

“Have as many as you like,” El says after swallowing the bite she’d been chewing on. “I made, like, 4 batches - there’s just one more in the oven right now.”

“Seriously, this is amazing. You could, like, open a bakery or something,,” Lucas says, voice pitching with awe, and Mike’s beginning to think there’s nothing El can’t do if she’s managing to win over skeptical, suspicious Lucas in a matter of minutes.

El blushes. “Thanks, that means a lot. But it’s just something I do for fun. I don’t know if I’d want to handle all the pressure of making food as my job.”

“Oh, hey, speaking of food,” Max says, cutting in. “We were planning on heading out to this bar a few blocks from here that we love going to. Do you think you’d want to come with us?”

El frowns, suddenly unsure, and Mike would do _anything_ to ease the uncertainty on her face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely sure,” Max says. “At the very least, I could use another woman around to counteract these bozos.”

Lucas looks over at Max. “Even when one of those bozos is your boyfriend?”

Max gives El an amused look before she goes over to Lucas and worms her way into his embrace so that one of his arms is slung over her shoulder while she hugs him close to her. “Aww, boo, you know you’re my _favorite_ bozo,” she says, standing up on her toes so she can press a light kiss to Lucas’ cheek.

El giggles, her hands clapping together as she smiles. “God, you two are adorable. How long have you been together?”

“Since sophomore year high school,” Lucas says, eyes rolling a little. Mike can tell he’s a little embarrassed, but is trying not to show it.

“Claimed this one early,” Max says, her grin at almost shit-eating proportions, but her eyes are full of love.

El arches a playful eyebrow. “Hey, when you find one of the good ones, you lock that shit down,” she says, her smile morphing to somewhat mirror Max’s. Mike is suddenly a little scared of having introduced the two women.

And that fear is validated a split second later when Max lets out a laugh. “Exactly, you feel me.”

El breathes out a sigh. “Anyway, yes, I would love to go out with you guys tonight.” She pauses, turning to look over her shoulder at the oven. “Um, so, I’m just going to go clean up a bit. If the timer goes off before I get back, can someone take the last batch of cookies out of the oven? I don’t want them to burn.”

Mike nods. “Yeah, El, not a problem.”

“Thanks,” El says, flashing him a smile. “Be right back.” She slips away, her phone still playing music in the kitchen, and then she disappears into her bedroom, door closing quietly behind her, leaving Mike alone with the rest of the Party.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Will asks, turning to look at Mike with a wide grin on his face. Luckily, Will’s keeping his voice low, so El _shouldn’t_ be able to hear it with her door closed.

“Seriously, Wheeler, you didn’t say your new roommate was a _freaking model,_ ” Max follows up with.

“Mike, my man,” Lucas says. “I know you’re the only single one of the group, here, but I didn’t think you’d stoop to _Craigslist_ to find a woman.”

Mike groans and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh my god, this is why I didn’t tell you earlier. You guys are gonna give me so much shit about this.”

“Dude, we’re gonna give you _more_ shit for it because you tried to hide it,” Dustin says. “Teach you to try to keep secrets from us.” He goes into the kitchen and grabs another cookie off the plate. “And, seriously man, if you don’t marry that woman, you’re a fucking idiot. These cookies? _Are amazing._ To quote your new roommate, ‘lock that shit down’.”

Mike blushes to the roots of his hair. “Oh my god, _stop,_ ” he says, pleading. “Do not make this weird. El’s my _roommate._ That’s it, ok? She was the first person who responded to my Craigslist ad and she’s nice and normal and given the hellscape that is the internet, I honestly couldn’t have done any better.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Will teases, a grin on his lips. “Please, we all saw how you were looking at her when we walked in. Subtle, you are not, Mike.”

Mike lets out a whine that’s more befitting a 5 year old child than a 23 year old man. “Please, this is hard enough as it is.”

Lucas snickers. “That’s what she said,” he says, which causes everyone else to start laughing.

Except for Mike, that is. Instead, he glares at Lucas. “I hate you. _All_ of you.”

“No, you love us, and you know it,” Max says, reaching out to lightly punch him in the shoulder.

This is, of course, the moment El walks back out of her room, having exchanged the leggings for tight jeans that hug close to her hips and thighs, and taking her hair out from its ponytail, leaving it to fall down her neck and shoulders in honey brown waves that make his hands itch to know what it would be like to run his fingers through those strands.

Dustin elbows him hard in the side, a little payback for earlier. “Hey, man, I think you’re drooling,” he mutters just low enough for Mike to hear. Mike winces, but is grateful for the reality check and he’s able to get himself mostly together by the time El’s finished looking up from looking through her purse.

“Hey, did the timer go off?” El asks as she approaches the Party, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

“Not yet,” Dustin says. He ducks into the kitchen and grabs a third cookie as he glances at the timer. “You’ve got 30 seconds.”

El gives Dustin a bright smile and Mike feels an irrational twinge of jealousy that her beautiful smile is directed so freely at one of his friends before he chides himself for acting like a complete idiot. “Thanks, let me just get this and then we can go.” She squeezes past Dustin, who’s standing in the entrance to the kitchen, Mike watching and wishing he was in Dustin's place as El gives Dustin’s upper arm a friendly squeeze as she moves past him, just as a courtesy.

Dustin looks over at Mike, a knowing gaze on his face, eyebrows waggling. “Jealous, much?” Dustin mouths, El safely behind him as she checks on the last batch of cookies, unable to see Dustin’s face or the message he’s passing on to Mike.

Mike just responds by flipping Dustin off as everyone else laughs under their breath and Mike can only hope that El is too preoccupied with the last batch of cookies to notice his friends acting like complete assholes.

But El still notices that _something_ happened behind her back when she’s finished in the kitchen, the look on her face a little wary as she eyes everyone - clearly reading something in the mood, but unsure what could be causing it. Mike _really_ hopes she doesn’t think she’s the reason when it’s really him who’s the source, him and his utter inability to control his feelings around a beautiful woman while also having the _worst_ friends on the face of the planet.

“Everything ok?” El asks.

Dustin lets out a snort, Max just laughs, and Will and Lucas shake their heads. “Don’t worry about it,” Will says. “We’re just being weird over here.”

“You’ll come to find, El,” Max says, her voice knowing and wise. “That these boys are just a bunch of idiots.”

“Idiots that you love, you mean,” Dustin says.

“Me in particular,” Lucas says, holding Max close.

The wariness passes from El’s face and she smiles, amusement filling her gaze and curving her lips just so. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I love idiots, then.”

Max lets out a laugh, El joining in seconds later, and all the guys groan. “Great, Mike, you’ve given Max a partner in crime,” Dustin says, eyeing him. “Look what you’ve done.”

Mike shrugs, a little amused despite the dread that crawls down his spine at what havoc Max and El could wreak together. “Sorry, man. At least she makes great cookies, though.”

“Aww, how sweet! Thank you, Mike,” El says, still laughing, and Mike suddenly doesn’t care at how his heart squeezes in his chest when she looks at him like that, all pleased and flattered.

Max moves from Lucas’ side and links her arm with El’s. “Stick with me and I’ll teach you everything you need to know about dealing with these guys,” she says, jerking her thumb in the direction of the guys.

El playfully bats her eyelashes at Max as the two women start heading towards the door, wordlessly signalling that it’s time to leave. “Ooh, I’ve always wanted a mentor….”

The guys follow behind almost obediently, trailing after the young women like ducklings after their mother. The entire time, Mike’s a little worried about how El is going to be accepted into the group - they’ve have a hard time letting in newcomers in the past - but as the evening goes on, Mike realizes that he shouldn’t have worried. El fits in like she’s _always_ been part of the group, giving as good as she gets, teasing and laughing and getting into deep, nerdy philosophical conversations with everyone, holding her own among a group of people who have known each other for over a decade.

Max and El especially hit it off, along with Megan once she arrives, the three women as thick as thieves with Max and Megan happy to have another girl as part of the group.

It’s just _nice,_ Mike realizes while he’s on his third beer. It’s nice having this person who’s new to the group yet so clearly clicks with everyone. There’s maybe a little awkwardness (again, all coming from him and the sly, teasing looks everyone but El gives him when she’s not looking), but with food and beer in the mix, it’s easily ignorable as El easily finds her place in the group dynamic.

Mike also can’t keep his eyes off of El practically all night. She’s just so _beautiful,_ her laugh bright, her smile even brighter, and she has a wicked sense of humor that has everyone else laughing right along with her.

El just fits in so well and Mike’s so attracted to her, danger signs flashing in the back of his head the entire time, warning him that he’s _thisclose_ to completely falling head over heels for her. And he realizes that he has no one to blame but himself for what's happening to him.

It’s official: he’s seriously and completely _fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (horrible secret time: i'm not in love with the end of this, but w/e. _i don't wanna look at it anymore_ )
> 
> ANYWAY. Luck willing, I'll have the last chapter out by the end of the weekend (I'm wary of overpromising and underdelivering on the schedule LIKE THIS TIME). 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, hold on to your butts, folks, we're taking a, well... _angsty_ turn over here.
> 
> (tho i would more classify this as 'hurt/comfort', but *shrugs*)
> 
> (also, fuck yeah, we got s3 episode titles (tentative) today and i'm so excited! you can probably credit that for helping me finish this chapter because i'm awash in stranger things feels today)

Yeah, El’s fucked.

(Though, _ha,_ not literally.)

Jesus Christ she’s making bad, dirty puns _to herself._ Clearly she needs to be stopped.

_(or get laid)_

_( **goddammit brain, SHUT UP** ) _

And the worst part of all of this is that El honestly has no one to blame but herself for the predicament she’s found herself in.

Honestly, the second the door opened when El came to check out the apartment to reveal the most gorgeous guy she’s ever seen in her entire life, El should have just turned tail and run as fast as she could in the other direction. At the very least, she shouldn’t have agreed to rent the room once she’d spent any time with Mike Wheeler and realized that he was both cute _and_ sweet.

Because then she wouldn’t have to be reminded of it _every goddamn day._ Especially because he’s Seriously Off Limits.

A fact which is currently taunting her as she and Mike hang out on the couch one night in the beginning of September.

It’s been about 6 weeks since El moved in and, for the most part, she feels like everything has settled into a really nice routine. She goes to work during the week and, on the nights when Mike doesn’t have late classes or discussion sections to teach, they just _hang out_ \- they make dinner, they watch TV or a movie, sometimes Mike has grading to do so El will put on something mindless or she’ll read a book while they both sit on the couch.

The weekends are generally reserved for hanging out with the whole Party, something El’s finding herself increasingly becoming a part of. It doesn’t take her long to become fast friends with all of them, especially Max and Will, and she’s really come to love having a group of people who she can hang out with. It’s nothing that she’s really ever had before.

Oh, sure she’s had friends in the past, but no one she’s ever really wanted to maintain a friendship with over the years, no one who she's ever felt like letting in all the way. And she’s _never_ clicked with a group of people like she has with the Party. It feels like she’s known them _forever_ and, no matter what happens, she’s always going to be happy to have met Mike if only because she suddenly has all these amazing friends.

But Mike is in a league of his own. As much as she’s hit it off with the rest of the Party, it’s nothing compared to how she feels when she’s around Mike. Even setting aside just how attracted she is to him, how stunningly handsome she thinks he is, El doesn’t think she’s ever felt so comfortable with another person in her entire life.

El can talk to Mike for hours and never get bored. And yet, just as easily, she can also just sit next to him not saying anything at all. She doesn’t ever feel the need to fill the silence - she just _wants_ to. El _loves_ talking to Mike. He’s so smart and funny and he always has interesting stories. El could just listen to him for hours - the words that he uses, the sound and tenor of his voice, the way he laughs... _god,_ it never fails to soothe her and make her shiver all at the same time, her skin tingling even as she’s melting.

But Mike’s also a really, _really_ good listener. When it’s her turn to talk, he keeps his gaze focused on her the whole time in a way that is almost unsettling, intent and curious, asking questions that keep her talking, reacting openly and fully. El sometimes likes to think it’s because Mike doesn’t want to look away from her. But she’s seen him focus on things _other_ than her, his gaze intent, and El realizes that when Mike Wheeler pays attention to something, he _really_ pays attention to something.

_(it makes her wonder, sometimes, how it would feel to have that attention paid to her for reasons **other** than talking, if he would have the same level of care and dedication to, oh say, kissing her or touching her. and every time she lets her thoughts wander down that path, her knees feel weak, her heart begins to pound, and she feels **dangerously** close to swooning.) _

Like right now, for instance. The TV’s on in the background, El streaming HGTV using her dad’s cable subscription, but Mike’s not even paying attention to it, focused as he is on grading the giant stack of quizzes that sit on the coffee table. Hell, _El’s_ barely paying any attention to the show she’s watching (which is ‘Property Brothers’, a show she likes very, _very_ much).

No, El’s too busy watching Mike out of the corner of her eye, both unable to stop and wishing she could so she could stop torturing herself.

Currently, Mike’s looking down at one of the quizzes, resting on a notebook in his lap, his legs folded in front of him. The tip of the pen he’s using for grading is trapped between his teeth, his lips _(oh god, his lips. all lush and full and so, **so** kissable) _ pursed around the plastic. Every few moments, that pen comes down to mark something on the paper below, a splash of red ink across the page, before resuming its position held between Mike’s lips and teeth.

God, El really wishes she wasn’t so enraptured...or that Mike wasn’t so good looking. _Really, it’s just not fair,_ El thinks as she studies him. Her eyes trace the length of his neck, the way his throat bobs when he swallows _(is it wrong that she very badly wants nibble on the skin along the length of his throat?),_ the cut of his jaw and cheekbones, the splash of freckles that lay across his cheeks and nose, the intensity of his dark eyes, all piercing and swoon-worthy and…

El gives herself a shake to jolt herself out of it, aware that she’s _thisclose_ to becoming a creepy stalker. But, _Jesus,_ she has it bad. _Real_ bad in a way that just gets worse every day, it seems.

Unfortunately the motion of her shaking her head catches Mike’s attention out of the corner of his eye and El hurries to look back at the TV, a fierce blush crawling up her cheeks, as Mike turns to face her. “Hey, you ok?”

El sucks in a breath that almost catches in her throat, but she manages to look over at him with a smile that feels only a little strained. “Yeah, I’m fine, just been a long day, you know?”

Mike’s brow furrows and he tilts his head a little, looking so adorable, that El almost can’t resist the urge to reach across the length of the couch and pull him towards her so she can kiss him. _Almost._ “You sure? You look like you might be getting sick or something. Your face is all red.”

Naturally, being called out for noticeably blushing just makes it worse and El lets out a groan, wanting so badly to grab one of the throw pillows she bought for the couch and hide her face in it. But she just shakes her head and hopes she can get Mike off this topic. “It’s nothing,” she says with a vague wave of her hand. “Nothing worth talking about, at any rate.” Which is true. It’s really not worth bringing up her ridiculously growing crush on her roommate _to_ said roommate. That’s just asking for a whole host of awkwardness El’s really not in the mood to deal with.

The frown on Mike’s face deepens. “You sure?”

El almost rolls her eyes, but somehow keeps a mainly straight face. “Yeah, don’t worry about it,” she says and, desperate for _anything_ to keep Mike’s attention off of her and her inability to tamp down this crush she has on him, she nods in the direction of the papers he’s grading. “How’s it going with the grading?”

Mike sighs and turns his attention back to the stack of papers, El watching as a cringe crosses over his features. “It’s...gonna be a while, I think. There’s a _lot_ of wrong answers. I think the material’s not connecting? But I’m not sure since I don’t got to lecture, so I can’t see what’s going on.”

El scoots over on the couch so she can lean over to look at the quiz Mike’s currently grading and her eyes almost immediately cross at the math on the page. “That looks hard. What class is this for?” she asks, nose crinkling as she looks back up at Mike. His face is only maybe a foot away from hers now, giving her a much better view of the delicate pattern of the freckles on his skin.

For a second, Mike just stares at her blankly and El feels a frisson of embarrassment crawl down her spine. God, she feels like an _idiot_ next to him. _He’s probably realizing what a dunce you are,_ El thinks, stomach churning. But, a beat later, Mike smiles and lets out a weak laugh. “Intro to Circuits.”

El nods, feeling even stupider. _Great, an intro class is stumping me. Way to be genius, El._ Squaring her shoulders, at least mentally, El presses on. “Well, I know nothing about circuits, or anything, but if you need any help….” El lets her sentence trail off leadingly, hoping that Mike will both pick up on what she’s hinting at _and_ fill in the blank for her.

Mike surprises her by nodding eagerly, a boyish smile crossing his lips, and El’s heart skips a beat at the sight of it. “Yeah, sure! That’d be great.” He pauses, looking down at the stack of papers on the coffee table; there must be about 200 of them and Mike’s only gone through maybe a dozen or so. “You think you could tally the points after I finish grading each one? I’ll get you another pen so you can mark down the score on the top. I’ll show you where.”

Mike’s eagerness is contagious and El finds herself smiling back. “I think I can handle basic math.”

The smile on Mike’s face widens. “Great! Thanks so much, by the way. I owe you, seriously. You’re awesome.”

El feels her blush coming back in full force and she tries to laugh it off. “Really, it’s not a problem,” she says.

Mike’s smile softens and El’s heart threatens to leap out of her chest entirely. “Still,” he says, voice low, almost hushed, his gaze dancing across her face in a way that makes butterflies take flight in her stomach. “I really appreciate it.”

Overcome by the emotion of the moment, El ducks her head - it’s that or _kiss_ him, he’s being so irresistible right now - before she glances up at him through her lashes, a smile pulling at her lips. “Alright, Wheeler, gimme a pen.”

The moment breaks when Mike reaches over to grab a pen and it doesn’t take them long to settle into a new rhythm: Mike grading a quiz and handing over to El while he moves onto the next one, El tallying points before setting it back on to the coffee table.

They go on like this for a while, the sound of the TV low in the background, and El finds it to be…. _soothing._ It’s nice to be so quietly busy, in a way that doesn’t take much effort on her part and she finds herself zoning out.

So it’s a surprise, when they’re almost halfway through the stack of papers, when Mike’s voice pierces through the zen-like state El’s found herself in. “So, you looking forward to this weekend?”

It takes El a moment to focus on Mike’s words and then another moment to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh, you mean the day at the lake?” The whole Party is going out to the lake on Saturday for one last “day of summer” and everyone’s excited about it.

“Yeah,” Mike says and El looks over at him to see him grinning at her.

El smiles back. “What do you guys do up at the lake, anyway?”

Mike shrugs. “Oh, you know: lounge in the sun, drink beer, go swimming.”

It's like she's been sucker-punched, her stomach curdling at the words “go swimming”, and she pushes past it, begging the memories to stay where they are: dead and buried. She'd been so good at ignoring them lately  _(too good, maybe)_ and she's hoping she can keep on doing just that. “Well, sign me up for the first two of those things. You buy Dustin’s claims that he’s found the, and I quote, ‘primo spot’ at the lake?”

But Mike’s frowning at her again, his face all concern, and he completely ignores her question. “You don’t like swimming?”

El continues to try and ignore the memories that threaten to overtake her, but flashes surface in her mind's eye  _(cold hands, colder smile, holding her down, her next breath too far away),_ her skin crawling. She somehow manages to keep a straight face and  shrugs, trying to downplay the way the beginning edges of panic crest beneath her skin, to convince herself everything is fine, _just_ fine. “Just...not much one for being in the water,” she says, really, _really_ not wanting to dredge up what should remain ancient history (it’s been _years_ and so many therapy sessions and all she wants is to just keep forgetting). “I take it you are, though, by the question?”

Mike eyes her like he wants to push for an answer to his question, but it’s an answer that El’s not ready to give and, thankfully, he moves on (though the look on his face tells her that he’s letting her duck out of the question). “Yeah, I love it, actually. Somehow got convinced to join the swim team in high school and, well...I discovered I _really_ like swimming. It’s kinda like me and running - my brain just shuts off for a while.”

El smiles, grateful for _anything else_ to focus on right now. “That’s nice,” she says. “That’s like me with interior design stuff on Pinterest.” She pauses, blinking as a thought occurs to her. “Only, yours is healthier since it involves, you know, actual exercise. I should probably try to copy your example and find some sort of exercise I enjoy.”

Mike chuckles, eyebrow quirking. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you don’t look like you need it.”

For a moment, El’s not sure how to take that - _is he complimenting her? calling her attractive?_ \- and she looks aside, biting her lip, trying desperately not to get her hopes up when she knows he’s just being nice. “Thanks,” she says, glancing back over at Mike. “We should probably get back to grading these quizzes, though. I’m sure you want to go to bed _sometime_ tonight.”

The smile on Mike’s face fades, his expression falling a bit. “O-oh, yeah, you’re right. I need to get these done.” He gives her a smile that’s more than a little awkward, with some sheepishness mixed in there for good measure, and they get back to grading, making swift work of the rest of the pile.

The entire time, though, El’s trying to ignore the nerves that Mike’s question brought out - _“You don’t like swimming?”_ her brain taunts her, making her stomach churn - but she somehow manages to push it aside and act mostly normal the rest of the night.

Her sleep is restless, though, once she’s gone to bed - no nightmares, thankfully, not this time. But she tosses and turns all night, _his_ voice echoing in her head with sickening whispers, causing her heart to pound and her hands to tremble. And when El looks at herself in the mirror the next morning, she looks like she feels, like she hasn’t slept a wink - bags under her eyes, skin a little sallow, and she’s so thankful for the sheer existence of makeup as she gets ready to go to work. _A little concealer goes a long way,_ El thinks and she’s glad she made the extra splurge on good concealer and foundation. It’s really going to save her ass today.

But, even still, when she gets home, her makeup having slowly worn off during the day, El can’t stop Mike from looking at her with concern. “You ok?” he asks as they sit down to dinner - leftovers from the night before, her with a glass of wine to go with dinner, him with a beer.

El shrugs. “Yeah, didn’t sleep well last night,” she says, trying to downplay it. “That ever happen to you? You just can’t fall asleep?” She’s threading a really thin line here, where she’s implying that she doesn’t know why she couldn’t sleep without outright saying it. And El’s _really_ hoping Mike doesn’t notice. Because she can’t talk about it. She just _can’t._

Again, luckily, Mike just smiles at her sympathetically and nods. “Yeah, those nights are the worse. The kind of nights where you start thinking about a prescription for sleeping pills, or something.”

“Yeah, and you don’t want to get up because if you do, you’ll never fall asleep, so you just hold out hope it’ll happen eventually,” El says.

“And then you eventually give up and, like, spend the rest of the night on your phone,” Mike says, taking over, an excited, boyish grin on his face.

El grins. “Exactly!” she says. She finds she can very easily ignore the dredged up memories at the sight of Mike’s handsome, intoxicating smile, bright enough to chase the shadows away, even if for a little bit.

Of course, memories resurfaced always take a while to rebury and, try as she might, El can’t manage to banish them by the time she’s heading up to the lake with the rest of the Party.

El should be having fun, all anticipation and excitement, eager to spend a day relaxing and having fun with her friends, maybe even dipping her toes in the water or sitting where the waves come up onto the shore when she gets hot from the sun. But the entire drive up, sitting next to Mike in the passenger seat of his car, her stomach is filled with dread. Mike doesn’t say anything about it - though El knows him well enough by now to know that he’s _dying_ to ask - and the ride is a fairly quiet one, which is unusual for them.

There’s part of El that’s hoping that just getting there and seeing the water, seeing that it’s just there and not touching her and knowing that she doesn’t have to go in it if she doesn’t want to, will help calm her down.

It doesn’t, though, once El’s out on the beach where everyone is after her, Max, and Megan come out from the bathrooms where they were changing into their swimsuits - hell, not even the way she thinks Mike is eyeing her as she settles next to him in the rocky sand wearing only her bikini is enough.

_(though it almost is, el won’t lie. her swimsuit isn’t particularly revealing - no more than any other woman there, really. but the way she swears mike looks at her - eyes slightly wide, the hints of a blush barely perceptible in the shade of the umbrella they’ve set up, lips parting just so as he gives her a quick once over - makes her heart beat faster in her chest and her skin warm almost uncontrollably.)_

No, she can barely look away from the water, waves gently lapping against the sloping beach, the blue expanse stretching out in front of her, hiding who knows what in its depths. But she doesn’t dare think about how it would feel to go in there, to be submerged beneath the surface, to look up through the water to the sky above, water swimming in her vision, his face hovering above her….

A nudge on her shoulder pulls El from her horrible reverie and she looks over to see Max giving her a concerned look while she slathers on sunscreen. “Hey, you ok?” Max asks as she smooths her hands over her legs, rubbing in the lotion.

El gives Max a smile that she hopes is normal and reassuring. “Yeah, I’m ok. Just haven’t been sleeping well. Why?” she says.

Max arches an eyebrow, lips pursing. “Hmm, well you’re staring at the water, white as a sheet, so I just wanted to make sure everything was fine.”

Caught, El blushes and shrugs. “Not the biggest fan of open water,” El says vaguely. She knows it’s a valid fear that a lot of people have, not the specific trauma-related one she has, and El hopes that Max’ll buy it.

Max gives her a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I get it. I mean, who knows what’s under there, right?”

El eagerly latches on to the assumption Max has made and leans into it. “God, I know, right?” she says, body shaking with a shudder that is 100% real, just not for the reason Max is assuming. “I think I’m just gonna lounge here under the umbrella and read a book while I drink beer.”

“A valid life choice,” Max says with a laugh. “Though, Wheeler’s gonna be disappointed he’s not going to see you all wet.” Max ends the sentence with a waggle of her eyebrows, emphasizing the double entendre she’s making.

El rolls her eyes - god, Max is _always_ teasing her about Mike. Most of the time, it’s sly, subtle digs. But sometimes, it’s overtly sexual jibes like this one. “Oh, ha, ha,” El says, trying to fight off her blush. She glances past Max to where Mike and the rest of the guys are, maybe 15 feet away, pawing through a bag of beach gear and water toys to take with them as they discuss the rules of whatever cockamamie game they’re coming up with to play in the water.

But, a second later, she looks back at Max with what she hopes is a stern glare. “Look, I don’t know why you keep hinting that he likes me like that. He’s just my roommate and now my friend.” El always pushes back when Max gets like this because she _has_ to. She can’t afford to a) get her hopes up and b) ruin a perfectly good friendship/roommate arrangement by getting feelings involved.

Max gives El a long look before she sighs, shaking her head, muttering under her breath what suspiciously sounds like, “You two, I swear.”

Before El can ask Max what she means by that, Max turns and looks over at Lucas, a sly grin on her face. “Hey, Stalker! C’mere so you can put sunscreen on my back!” And, just like that, the thread is dropped, the moment gone.

Mike comes over a minute later to rummage through his bag for something. “Hey, you wanna come out to the water with us?” he asks, giving her a hopeful, curious look.

El smiles, the churning in her stomach ratcheting up another notch. But it’s counteracted by the way her heart leaps into her throat as Mike pulls off his shirt and tosses it down to his towel, which is next to hers. So, the smile she gives him is less panicked and more lovesick, so she figures it mostly looks normal. “Just gonna read, I think,” she says as she holds up her Kindle. “Maybe grab a beer in a second.”

Mike stares at her before realization crawls up over his face. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t like swimming.” He smiles, sheepish. “Sorry about that.”

El shrugs. “No worries,” she says, skin beginning to prickle. _God,_ that beer sounds fantastic right about now. Anything to help quell the nerves that are building up inside of her.

And, sadly enough, it does a little. The alcohol does help calm her...or at least _numb_ her. Enough so she can focus on the sounds of her friends having fun and _not_ the splashing of the water, enough so she can keep her eyes on the screen of her Kindle instead of staring out at the water with ever-rising panic.

But, of course, the alcohol _also_ wears down her walls, makes it easier for her emotions to rise to the surface when prompted.

After about an hour or so of playing in the water, Mike comes bounding up the beach straight towards her, calling out to her as he approaches. “Hey, you doing ok over here?” he asks, drawing El’s attention up from her Kindle, as he reaches for a second towel to dry himself off.

El looks up, response on her lips, but the words die on her tongue as she stares up at him, eyes wide, her mouth going dry. _Ooh, hello._ Mike Wheeler just out of the water is perhaps one of the most beautiful sights El’s ever seen - hair slicked back, but still a little wild at the ends; board short swim trunks plastered and clinging tight to his hips; water dripping down his bare arms and chest, droplets standing out like map markers along a trail El wants to follow with her mouth and tongue. She watches as water slowly slides down his torso, pooling at the waistband of his swim trunks, and El’s breath catches in her throat as she thinks about what it would look like if those droplets were allowed to slide down unimpeded, how he would look wet _and_ naked, and-

El very firmly clamps down on that train of thought. God, maybe that beer _wasn’t_ such a good idea…. “Uh, yeah, fine, _fine."_ She pretends to ignore the look Mike’s giving her as he sits down next to her, like he can see right through her _(and maybe he can),_ “How’s it out there?” El asks, nodding towards the water, but making sure to keep her eyes locked on Mike the entire time (she can’t look, she just _can’t)._

Mike grins, looking so boyishly charming that El almost swoons. “Oh, it’s _great._ Water’s perfect and everything.” He pauses, expression shifting into one of such poignant hope, all pleading eyes and beseeching grin. _God, he probably got away with murder as a kid, with puppy dog eyes like that. His poor mother._ “You _sure_ you don’t want to join us? You can just sit out in the water if you don’t want to swim, but you’re seriously missing out.”

Mike’s request is spoken so earnestly, and with such hope, that her heart squeezes. And she wants, _so badly,_ to give him what he’s asking for, what he wants. It tangles with the way her heart feels like it’s starting to beat for him and him only, with how she can’t look away from him, with how her soul sings whenever she’s in his presence. And, for a moment, she imagines giving into his request-

-and the panic she’s been holding back all day, under the relaxing influence of the alcohol, bursts past her carefully crafted walls and up to the surface. El gasps, the memories rushing in, her stomach souring, heart racing to fuel the terror that races in her veins. The wild swing in her emotions - from lovesick to terrified - leaves her twisting, feeling horribly exposed, and she swallows roughly, her past coming back to haunt her.

_(hands holding her beneath the surface. words spoken in a cold, detached voice. “you’re doing great. such a good girl. just once more. don’t you want to make your mother proud?” her voice stolen from her, along with her breath, as the shock of the cold water swallows her whole. heart racing as her vision dims, heart pounding sluggishly. she can’t breathe, can’t summon the energy to do more than struggle weakly against his grip as he holds her under the water. trembling when he lets her up. “what did you see? tell me!” hands shaking her roughly, demanding answers, cold and detached becoming wild and crazed, desperate for validation, for **vindication**. but she’s just a child and she has no idea what he’s asking for and she just wants her dad, her **real** dad, and-) _

El can’t stop it, can’t stop the images from playing in her mind’s eye, and she starts to tremble, her limbs shaking. She knows Mike notices from the way his face softens, concern filling his gaze. “El? What’s wrong?” he asks, all low and tender and so, _so_ warm, kind and considerate.

It’s too much, just too much. He has no idea and El doesn’t know how she’s going to get out of not telling him, not when he’s looking at her like he just wants to make sure she’s ok, like he just wants to help. But he’s going to look at her differently and it makes El sad, to know that things are about to change for the worse. _Like they always do whenever she tells people._

And, so, scared and panicked and so very sad, El can’t stop what happens next.

She starts to cry.

 

* * *

  
The sight of El’s quiet tears hits Mike straight in the heart and the deepest guilt washes over him.

_Oh god, he made her cry._

When the whole swimming thing first came up a few nights ago and El sidestepped the question, Mike just figured she didn’t know how to swim that well and was embarrassed about it. So when he asks her to reconsider staying here on the shore while the rest of them were having fun in the water, Mike expects maybe a little pushback while he cajoles her into coming out to be with everyone else.

He doesn’t expect the way her face falls, her eyes filling with tears that slowly fall down her cheeks, her lower lip quivering as she ducks her head, shoulders shaking and breath hitching quietly in a way that makes his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

Because this isn’t just some sort of embarrassment or mild aversion to swimming.

No, this is something _much worse._ And Mike wants to know, _needs_ to know.

Because the sight of El Hopper crying makes Mike want to do _anything_ to help, to make her feel better.

Because the sight of El Hopper crying hurts him so bad, it makes Mike want to cry along with her.

For a moment, Mike doesn’t know what to do, how to react. He can only stare at her, heart breaking more with each second that passes. But when a soft sob escapes from El’s lips, Mike’s moving before he’s even fully aware of what he’s doing, hand reaching out to cover one of hers where it’s fisting in the towel beneath her. His heart does it’s normal beat-skip at the feel of her skin beneath his palm, but his concern for her is overriding everything and Mike pays it no attention. “Hey, no, it’s ok. I didn’t mean to push you. I’m sorry,” he says, voice quiet, going for soothing and hoping he’s achieving it.

But El shakes her head and lifts her gaze to meet his. Mike swallows roughly at the look in her eyes - an unfathomable depth of sadness and regret, hurt and fear - and he finds himself almost drowning in it as his heart goes out to her. “No, I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

Mike squeezes El’s hand before shifting his grip, gently unfurling her fist so he can press his palm to hers, so her fingers can wrap around his. She holds on tight, almost painfully so, and Mike doesn’t know if she’s looking for something to anchor herself or if she’s scared of what’s happening. “El, no,” he breathes. “Why are you sorry?”

The question only seems to make it worse because the way El’s lower lip trembles as she holds back the bulk of her tears only gets worse and her face somehow falls even more. “Because everything is going to change if I tell you. You’ll look at me differently and I’m scared.”

Mike’s heart leaps into his throat, panic under building inside of him, and he rushes to reassure her. “El, _nothing_ you could tell me would make me think differently about you.” And he means it 100%. Mike considers himself lucky every day that he has her in his life, that he has the opportunity to get to know her and be her friend. Nothing she could say would make him feel anything other than gratitude.

El eyes him, uncertain. “Promise?” she asks, voice sounding so small, the pieces that Mike’s heart shattered into earlier break even further.

“Promise,” Mike says, giving El’s hand another squeeze. “You’re amazing and nice and smart and nothing will take away from that.”

Somehow, _that_ tears a sob from El’s throat, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, and suddenly just holding El’s hand isn’t good enough anymore. Mike wants to reach for her, pull her into his arms so he can give her a hug, so he can protect her from whatever horrible memories of the past are haunting her.

But then El looks down and she starts to speak, her voice quiet, but mostly steady except for a thin tremor. Mike freezes, not willing to do anything to interrupt, feeling like a spell has been cast over him. “My parents got divorced when I was young. Like, when I was 4. My mom got custody - my dad’s a cop, right? Not always the most stable home environment with regular hours, not the best to raise a child in. So, I went to live with my mom and we moved to New York City for my mom’s work.”

El pauses here, taking in a deep, shaky breath like she’s bracing herself for what’s about to come next. By this point, the everything about the beach around them has completely faded away for Mike. There’s nothing except for the sound of El’s voice, the sight of her quiet tears, the anguish on her face, her hand small and warm in his, fingers gripping him so tight that her knuckles have turned white.

“When I was about 7 or so, my mom started dating this guy. He was older than she was - like 10 years at least - and he was some bigwig research doctor. You can even look him up on the internet - his name was Martin Brenner.” El huffs a sigh, and Mike knows she’s almost rolling her eyes despite the sadness that runs through her. “I honestly don’t know what they saw in each other. But they got married when I was 8 and, for a little while, it wasn’t so bad. He was nice, but kinda distant - I don’t think he wanted a step-daughter, but he wasn’t horrible about it. He tried, at least, and it was, well... _ok._ And then….” El trails off, her voice going tight.

Mike squeezes El’s hand. “Hey, it’s ok. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says, dread filling him. God, he almost doesn’t want to hear it (even as his curiosity is at it’s all time peak).

El shakes her head, almost violently. “ _No,”_ she says emphatically. “We’re living together so you should know.” El takes in another deep breath. “My step-father was researching the limits of the brain, especially pushing the limits of consciousness. I’m not sure how he got on this line of research, but he was _obsessed._ So much so that when the university he worked at discovered he was using unethical research practices, they revoked all his grant money and banned him from the university, essentially blacklisting him.”

Here, Mike has to ask, interrupting El. “Unethical research practices?” he asks, a chill running down his spine, bile swirling in his stomach, and he swallows roughly.

El nods, her face paling. “He started thinking that the only way to break the limits of our current level of consciousness was to be near-death. So he would come just shy of killing his research volunteers and then ask them what they saw, what they experienced.”

“Oh my god, that’s horrible,” Mike says, his stomach twisting and turning. “Why did people let him do that? How?”

El reaches up to wipe away a flood of tears that spills down her cheeks. “God, I don’t even know,” she says. “He somehow gathered a cult following, of people who believed he could ‘free their minds’ with his research. But, when he lost his funding and his research facilities, some of them abandoned him. My mother didn’t, though - she was one of the people who truly _believed_ in him. But it still didn’t solve a problem he suddenly had.” El gulps, breath hitching in a sob, looking up at him with wide eyes that are shining with tears, her shoulders slumping as she curls in on herself, like she’s trying to shield herself against the world. “He needed more research subjects.”

Mike’s heart falls into his stomach, the air leaving his lungs in a rush as knowing spreads through him like ice through his veins. “ _El,"_ he breathes, unable to say anything other than her name as the horror of what El’s implying dawns over him.

El looks down like she can’t bear to look at him, tears falling faster than her hand can clear away. “It was my mother’s idea,” El says, her voice so small, Mike has to strain a little to hear her. “She was so under my step-father’s spell that she didn’t see what was wrong with it.” She pauses again, the temporary silence all but unbearable. “God, I don’t even remember how my mother convinced me to go along with it. But most of my step-father’s methods for bringing people near-death were too harsh for a kid. Except for being submerged in water.” El glances back up at him, still curled in on herself. “I was 9 years old.”

Mike feels the tears beginning to burn behind his eyes, his throat thick with them, and he can’t look away. He wants to say something but he can’t. He has no words. For what feels like the first time in his life, Mike Wheeler is truly speechless.

El starts to speak again, her voice shaking even harder than before. “I can still remember what he looks like as he held me under the water. I tried to fight, but he was so much stronger than I was. I don’t even know how many times he did it to me - I’ve blocked a lot of it out, so there's a lot I don't remember. They wouldn’t let me near a phone - I think they knew I would call my dad if they let me - but I somehow managed to get a hold of a phone long enough to call my dad.” Another pause, another shaky breath, another barely controlled sob. “He came and rescued me, got me out of there. My step-father ended up in jail, my mother had a nervous breakdown and was institutionalized, and I have a fear of water.” El’s face crumples. “And when you asked me if I wanted to go in the water, it all came rushing back and I’m scared you’re going to pity me and I-”

Whatever El was going to say disappears as her hand comes down over her mouth, her tears overtaking her, shoulders shaking with whispered sobs. Mike isn’t even thinking as he lets go of her hand so he can pull her close, arms wrapping around her in a hug. El buries her face in his shoulder, her hands lightly resting fisted against his sides, as she cries. Her tears are hot against his bare skin and somewhere in the back of Mike’s mind, he’s aware that his hand is resting on her bare back, exposed by the two-piece swimsuit she’s wearing, while the other is curled around her bare waist with his forearm pressed against the small of her back, her skin soft and warm beneath his touch.

But it’s not really important right now because Mike’s heart can’t stop breaking, because he can’t stop marveling at this amazing woman who’s stronger than anyone he’s ever met, who’s been through more than any one person should ever have to go through and came out the other end kind and sweet and generous beyond measure. Mike doesn’t pity her, no. He could never pity her.

He’s _in awe_ of her.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mike sees Dustin and Will approaching - probably to grab something from where their stuff is all set up - and the looks on their faces are concerned and curious. Mike knows they want to come over to see if everything’s ok, but Mike just shakes his head, telling them silently that that’s not a great idea. Thankfully, they get the hint and keep their distance, letting Mike focus on the crying woman in his arms, on the woman who he’s almost 100% sure he’s falling in love with.

“I’m sorry,” El says through her tears, the words watery and whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Mike holds her tighter, his own eyes clouding with tears. “Hey, no, don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. _Nothing._ ” This only makes El cry harder, though, and Mike’s heart goes out to her. He can’t imagine having to deal with that kind of trauma, can’t imagine the strength it must take to keep going in the face of it. And Mike knows that even though he’s still getting to know her, he’s so proud of El for being this amazing person who’s devoted her life to helping others, who makes him smile and laugh everyday, and who’s quickly becoming one of his best friends.

_God, how did he get so lucky?_

Mike’s not sure how long they sit there like this, El in his arms, her body trembling with tears as he holds her tight, but eventually her tears slow and when she starts to pull away, Mike lets her. “Ugh, I’m sorry,” she says, sniffling through a stuffy nose. “I just cried literally all over you.”

Her face is blotchy and red, her eyelids swollen with tears, but Mike still doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone more beautiful. “Please, literally don’t worry about it,” Mike says, his hands moving so that his palms are cupping her elbows. “You ok?”

One of El’s arms comes up to wipe at her face and Mike immediately takes one of hands away from her elbow so he can dig through his duffle bag for the pack of tissues he knows is in there. “I will be,” El says.

“Here,” Mike says a second later, passing her the pack of tissues.

“Thanks,” El says, fingers prying open the plastic. “It’s not like I haven’t gone to therapy forever for this or anything. Or that it wasn’t something that happened a long time ago. It just hits me sometimes, you know?” She wipes her face and blows her nose, breath stuttering a bit as she clearly tries to gain some measure of self-control.

“There’s no time limit on coping,” Mike says. There’s an awkward pause and Mike chews a bit on the inside of his cheek before he speaks. “I’m glad you told me, though.”

El looks up at him, eyeing him like she doesn’t quite believe him. “You are?”

Mike smiles softly, knowing he’s looking down at her with undisguised fondness. “Yeah, I am. I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. I know it wasn’t easy and I know it was scary and I’m proud of you, you know? And I was wrong before: I _do_ think of you differently.”

El cringes before Mike can finish speaking. “God, I _knew_ it. I wish I-”

“I think you’re even more amazing than I did before,” Mike says, his turn to cut El off before she can finish. The words startle her and El looks up at him, wide-eyed and almost disbelieving, the flush on her cheeks not just because she was crying a minute ago. Mike feels a blush crawl up his cheeks at the intensity of her gaze and he ducks his head, looking away. A split second later, a thought comes to mind and he looks back at her with a grin. “Hey, I know what we need right now: ice cream. I think there’s a stand a little down the way if you’re up for a walk.”

A small smile graces El’s face and Mike’s soul fucking _soars_ at the sight. “Thank you,” she says, the words filled with the weight of a thousand meanings.

Mike returns the smile, heart pounding, recognizing that he’s so far past gone for her, it’s not even funny. He can’t even deny it anymore. “Anytime,” he says. He lets himself look at her for just a moment longer before he gets to his feet, holding out his hand to help her up. “Now, come on, let’s get ice cream. My treat.”

El lets out a giggle and Mike almost cries at the sound, rich and happy and so, _so_ beautiful. “What a gentleman you are,” she say as she slips on her sandals, smiling at him despite the remnants of tears on her face.

Mike laughs. “You mind telling my mother that? She’s convinced I’m a smartass.”

El gives him a look as they start to walk. “Well, you _are,_ but that doesn’t mean you can’t also be a gentleman at the same time.”

For a moment, Mike just stares, completely blown away by her. He can’t look away, not even to see where he’s going, and he’s glad he somehow doesn’t trip over himself in the process. El’s just so _beautiful_ (and that’s not even counting the fact that she’s wearing a bikini which really doesn’t cover much and that, _oh god,_ he knows how soft her skin is now). She shines brighter than anyone he’s ever met in his entire life and he doesn’t know what he did to have someone like her in his life, but he’s never going to let her go, even if he's only ever her friend.

And as they walk to get ice cream, the journey filled with quiet laughter, Mike knows that, at the very least, he’ll always have that.

And for that, he’s so, _so_ thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm sure it's escaped nobody's attention that I no longer know how long this fic is gonna be. It's gone completely out of my hands at this point. It could be 6 chapters, could be 7...hell, it could even be 8. I don't even know any more and I'm not gonna guess because I'll just be VERY WRONG and have to eat my words and I'm not about that lifestyle, fam. I'm just not.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and that it wasn't too angsty! I was kinda hinting a little at how some shit went down in El's life at the beginning of the fic, so hopefully it wasn't too out of left field. 
> 
> Catch y'all on the flip side!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, yeah, this took a lot longer to get out than I was anticipating. Blame it on a variety of factors - I went on vacation and it was the holidays and I had a secret santa fic to write - but I never wanted this to go over three weeks without updating. So, I'm sorry.
> 
> Also, _ha_ , this chapter is just over 15k words long and I _still_ can't believe I thought this was gonna be a oneshot...
> 
>  
> 
> _for shame_

“So, you told Mike about Brenner?”

El sighs and flops back on her pillow, Hopper’s question coming out from her phone’s speaker to hit her straight in the heart.

It’s been almost a couple of weeks since that day at the lake, when she told Mike about her childhood, and El’s only now getting around to telling Hop about it during one of their twice weekly calls. Part of that is because El doesn’t want Mike overhearing her talking about him to her dad and, since Mike has a late lab session and won’t be getting home until 8, there’s no danger of that.

But the other reason El’s waited so long to tell Hop about Mike being in the know about her past is because she’s not entirely sure how to feel about it herself.

Which is probably a little bit why she’s talking to Hop about it _now._

“Yeah, we went to the lake a couple of weekends ago with his friends and, well...it came up.” El doesn’t need to elaborate, not to Hopper. He was there for her rescue and the immediate aftermath of both it and her recovery. He knows all about her phobia and lingering trauma and the progress she’s made in overcoming both of them as best as she’s been able to.

“Ah, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Hop’s voice is warm and soft, _fatherly,_ and El’s heart squeezes in her chest, tears springing to her eyes.

But El sucks in a deep breath and blinks away her tears. “It’s ok,” she says, the words a little shakier than she’d like, and she pauses for a moment to consider what she just said and who she said it to. “Well, not _ok_ -ok, but you know what I mean.”

Hop lets out a wry laugh that El totally and completely sympathizes with. “Unfortunately,” he says before he sighs. “So, how’d Wheeler take it?”

This, right here, is the crux of the issue El’s been having. Because since telling Mike about what happened to her when she was a kid, it feels like both nothing _and_ everything has changed. “He took it ok, especially considering I cried on him for about 10 minutes while he hugged me,” El says, unable to keep the self-deprecating tone out of her voice.

“Well, I’m glad your roommate is a gentleman, at least,” Hop says. “I’d have to question his character if he let someone be in emotional distress without trying to help. How’s he been since, though? Treating you any differently? I know how much you hate that.”

El lets out a groan and sits up, legs folding in front of her on her bed. “That’s the thing, _I don’t know._ I mean, he doesn’t treat me like I’m made of glass, or anything, which makes me happy. But, sometimes I catch him looking at me and there’s this _look_ in his eyes that I just can’t place.” It’s a look that makes El’s heart beat rapidly in her chest, her skin warm and tingly, all the while make her stomach twist and swoop. Mike glances away quickly whenever El catches him looking at her like that, so she only sees it in split-second snippets, not enough time to decipher what it could _mean._

“Maybe it has nothing to do with what you told him, El,” Hop says. “Maybe he’s attracted to you. Ever think of that?”

Discomfort slithers down El’s spine at having this conversation with her _dad,_ of all people. But she pushes past it. “Dad, Mike’s _not_ attracted to me. He’s my roommate.”

“One doesn’t exclude the other,” Hop says. “By the way, you’re really bad at hiding how disappointed you are that Wheeler doesn’t find you pretty.”

 _Damn this man and his inability to see through her._ “Ugh, _Dad,_ can we not do this right now?” El asks, closing her eyes as she buries her face in the hand not holding her phone. She _really_ doesn’t want to think too heavily about how transparent her growing feelings for Mike are becoming...because then it might get to the point where _Mike_ notices (if he hasn’t already, that is), and El’s not ready for that confrontation. Not at all.

“Fine, live in denial for a little while longer,” Hop says. “Can’t believe I raised a coward, though. The shame on my family’s honor is a mortal wound, I tell ya.”

El rolls her eyes at her dad’s histrionics. “You really are the world’s biggest drama queen, did you know that?”

“Hey, don’t forget that I helped bring you into this world,” Hop says. “And that I can just as easily take you out of it.”

El giggles and her conversation with Hop switches over to it’s normal teasing, as Hop updates her as to how things are back in Indianapolis (“Every day, I wanna move out of this shithole” – “Then do it and quit whining at me about it.”) and El keeps her dad updated as to how things are with her job and just the day-to-day of living in Chicago (“I hate that it rains sideways here.” – “Well, they don’t call it the Windy City for nothing, Ellie.”).

They get off the phone a little after 7:30 with promises to talk in a few days and El, once again, has the silent apartment to herself and her thoughts. She spends the next 15 minutes or so faffing about on her phone – checking the news, scrolling through her Instagram feed, poking around on Pinterest – but the sound of the front door opening pulls her attention away. _Mike’s home._

Ignoring the way her heartbeat picks up with lovesick excitement, El pushes herself out of bed and walks out into the hall, calling out to Mike all the while. “Hey, you’re back earlier than I thought,” El says. “Are you hungry? I haven’t eaten dinner yet, but I was thinking maybe we could go to that Thai place down the street? Totally my treat since I’m craving it and all, but I-”

El stops just inside the living room, her words halting as quickly as her steps, as she looks over at Mike. He’s standing directly across from her in the living room as he drops his messenger bag to the ground, the fabric muffling the thump as it hits the hardwood. His shoulders are slumped a bit, his face a mess of anxiety and nerves, and all in all, it looks like someone just kicked his puppy.

El’s heart immediately goes out to him and it feels like the organ is twisting in her chest at the sight of Mike looking both scared and down in the dumps. “Hey, everything ok? What’s wrong?”

Mike looks at her, tongue flicking out to lick his lips in what El’s come to know as a nervous tic of his, and sighs. “My parents are coming to visit on Saturday.”

Ok, he’s lost her. El’s brow furrows and she feels her head tilt in a reflection of her confusion. “Ok?” she says leadingly, prompting him to elaborate. But when he doesn’t, the silence stretching heavy between them, El sighs as well. “I’m not seeing why this is a bad thing.”

Mike lets out a groan. “You don’t understand,” he says, sounding so morose that El can’t be annoyed at how vague he’s being right now.

So El just smiles softly. “Alright, well, why don’t we go get some dinner and you can tell me all about it? Like I said, my treat.”

Mike looks at her, one eyebrow arching in something between skepticism and hesitation, before he gives her a weak smile. “Ok, sounds good. Let me just say, though, that I’m sorry in advance.”

El frowns. “Your parents that bad?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

 

* * *

  
Right up until the moment his mom calls him, Mike is having a really good day.

Actually, make that a really good couple of weeks.

It’s weird how something so sad could lead to him being happy, but ever since El told him about what happened to her when she was a kid, things have been really good between them with their friendship, for the most part. Yeah, Mike notices sometimes that El seems both a little ashamed or uncomfortable, but those moments always fade away as quickly as they appear.

Mike gets it, he really does. He can easily imagine the kind of sympathetic pity El’s received in the past whenever she’s told anyone about what happened to her. So Mike’s made it a point to keep treating El like he had before he found out, not coddling her or treating her like she’s a delicate flower.

It’s not hard to, really. El’s one of the strongest people Mike’s ever met – indomitable will wrapped in soft beauty and sweet smiles. So Mike’s not surprised El’s managed to be so successful despite what happened to her. As far as he’s concerned, El can do _anything._

_(though it’s probably not helping anything that el sometimes catches him staring at her like an awed, lovesick fool. but mike can’t help himself. she’s just so **amazing**.) _

Every day that goes by is one where Mike counts his blessings that he got to meet El. She’s more than his roommate now – El’s one of his best friends. It’s to the point where Mike’s rapidly forgetting that he hasn’t always known her, that El hasn’t always been a part of his life.

Of course, none of this helps with the insane attraction Mike feels for El. In fact, it just makes it _worse_ and Mike knows he could so very easily _actually_ fall in love with her – which is just so dangerous, it’s almost overwhelming.

Because Mike honestly likes being friends with El. Yeah, he looks at her and dreams about her and wonders what it would be like to hold her and kiss her. But he would rather pine after her in silence than do anything to ruin their friendship. Especially because there’s been little to no indication that El might feel anything more than friendship for him. Yes, Mike’s pretty sure he’s caught El checking him out a couple of times _(which, he’s not going to lie, is incredibly flattering, that such a beautiful woman could find him at least a little attractive)._ But that doesn’t mean that there’s actual _feelings_ involved.

Really, at the end of the day, if all Mike ever has with El is friendship, he’ll be happy and cherish the closeness that has developed between them. And that closeness has only grown since El opened up to Mike about her past, which is why he’s happy she told him. Because he’ll never pass up any opportunity to get closer to her, even if it’s the sweetest kind of torture.

These thoughts have been floating in the back of Mike’s head for the past few days now and he’s in the middle of actively thinking about all of this when his cell phone rings.

(Really, Mike _should_ be paying attention to the lab station he’s working at with the simulation he’s running, but his brain’s too caught up in all things El for this to be a truly effective working session.)

Mike gives his computer screen a sheepish look, feeling guilty for ignoring his work, before he reaches for his cell phone sitting a couple of feet away. It only takes a quick glance at his cell phone to see that it’s his mom calling and Mike can’t help the way he groans. It’s not time for their usual talk, which means his mom wants _something_ and Mike’s dreading what it might be. Suddenly, his day has gone from good to _scary._

Still, he can’t ignore his own mother, so Mike takes in a deep breath, puts on a pleasant face, and answers the phone. “Hi, Mom,” he says.

“Mike, sweetheart. How are you?” Karen’s voice is light and polite, but warm, and her words still clear and sharp.

_Hasn’t had too much to drink, then. Today must be a good day._

“Good, Mom. Just doing some lab work on campus. How are you?”

“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Not much happens here in Hawkins, as you know,” Karen says.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know,” he says with a chuckle. “So, what’s up? Everything ok?”

Karen scoffs, the sound playful. “What, a mother can’t just call her son to say hi?”

If Mike were with his mom in person, she’d scowl at the flat, derisive look he _knows_ is on his face. “Mom, you’ve _never_ called just to say hi. And, besides, this isn’t our normal time to talk on the phone. So, either something’s wrong or you need something from me.”

There’s a heavy pause before Karen sighs. “Alright, fine, you see right through me.” She breathes deep. “I just wanted to let you know that your father and I are heading out to Chicago for a day trip on Saturday and we wanted to stop by to take you and your roommate out for dinner.”

Mike almost chokes on his breath, he gasps so suddenly. “You _what?"_ Occasionally, his parents attempt to have what Mike calls “date days”, where they try to be a normal couple and do normal couple things. But it only highlights just how dysfunctional their marriage really is and Mike often ends up in the middle of it when it all falls apart.

Karen clucks her tongue. “Oh, don’t take that tone with me, Michael. Your father and I want to meet this roommate of yours. Besides, it’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

“Oh god, _Mom._ El’s just my _roommate,_ you know that, right?” Mike asks. Karen’s making it sound like he and El are _a thing_ that he’s hiding from her, when nothing could be further from the truth.

“I know,” Karen says, placating. “But you’ve talked about her enough and I’m curious about her. She sounds like a lovely person. And, besides, you never know….” she says, voice trailing off leadingly.

Mike groans. “Mom, nothing is going to happen between me and El. Honestly, I had a room for rent and she needed a place to live. Luckily, we’ve become friends, but that wasn’t planned.”

Karen sighs. “Well, your father is curious about her.” Which, with a stomach that is rapidly twisting itself into knots, Mike knows is code for “concerned and disappointed”. “And I’m intrigued. You can’t blame me for that. You’ve never had a serious girlfriend and now you’re living with a woman.”

“Gee, thanks for rubbing my nonexistent love life in my face, Mom. That makes me feel _so_ good about myself,” Mike says, reaching over to grab a pen off the lab table so he can fiddle with it, twirling it between his fingers.

“You’re a sweet, handsome young man, Mike,” Karen says. “Any woman would be lucky to have you if you would just _put_ yourself out there. I don’t know why you don’t just _try."_

Mike swallows roughly, stomach souring and heart twisting painfully. “Mom, we’re not talking about this now. I have work I need to be doing.” He sighs. “Look, just let me know when you’re going to be stopping by. I don’t think El has plans, but I’ll double check when I get home, ok?”

That seems to satisfy his mom and, a minute later after promises to update Mike when they’ll be dropping by the apartment, Karen says goodbye and ends the call.

It takes all of a 10 seconds for apprehension to flood him at the thought of El meeting his parents. Mike’s tried to tell his mom as little about El as possible – hell, he hasn’t even told his mom that El’s dad knows them – but he must have let slip more than he was aware of for his mom to be _this_ curious.

 _God, the last thing I need is her thinking that all El and I need is “a push”,_ Mike thinks, face screwing up with displeasure and annoyance.

And that’s to say nothing about what his _dad_ is thinking. Nothing Mike has ever done is good enough and Ted Wheeler has _never_ hidden his disappointment of his son, not even in front of company.

In fact, the more he thinks about it, the more scared he gets for this upcoming weekend. But he knows there’s nothing he can do to dissuade his parents from coming out. Once they get an idea in their heads, not even the apocalypse can change their course. So Mike’s going to have to suck it up and give El fair warning for what’s about to happen. Because with his mom’s scheming and his dad’s eternal disappointment, Mike just _knows_ that this is all going to go horribly wrong.

Mike attempts to salvage something of the day by throwing himself into his work, but it doesn’t help – his thoughts are swirling, brain stewing in nervous anxiety – and Mike gives up a little after 7. He packs up his messenger bag, shoulders slumped, and all but _slinks_ to his car in the dying light of the day.

He really, _really_ doesn’t want El to meet his parents. Not because he’s embarrassed about El, but because he’s embarrassed about _his parents._ All throughout growing up, Mike has _never_ felt like his parents have ever understood him. His mother tried, but her efforts always seemed to ring hollow, like she was just humoring him and waiting for him to stop bothering her. And somewhere around the beginning of high school, his mom just _stopped_ trying to understand him at all.

And his dad, well...Ted Wheeler seems to have never gotten over the fact that Mike never really played sports or did normal boy things and instead gravitated towards nerdier pursuits and hobbies. Like he’d been wanting his son to make up for what Mike can only assume is his dad’s lackluster childhood.

The more Mike thinks about this, the more his spirits sink and by the time he’s parked the car near the apartment, Mike feels like his emotions are living somewhere near the 9th circle of hell. He trudges up the stairs to the second floor and lets himself in, his messenger bag slowly slipping off his shoulder.

Mike closes the door behind him and he can hear El’s voice coming from her room, the sound getting closer as she greets him. The twisted mess of fear and anxiety in his stomach eases a bit at the sound of her voice, of being near her again and surrounded by the comfort of _home,_ a concept that is rapidly expanding to contain her and her presence.

But it’s not enough to dispel the mood entirely and Mike knows he’s broadcasting everything when he lays eyes on her. The look on El’s face quickly turns from pleasantly happy to worried and her offer to pay for them to go out to dinner cuts off mid-sentence.

For a moment, Mike just looks at her, unable to even say _anything_ in greeting. El’s dressed casually, having changed out of her work clothes and into jeans and a pretty, pale green v-neck shirt, her hair pulled up in a soft ponytail. Despite his mood, Mike’s heart skips a beat at the sight of her, looking so pretty and beautiful and _amazing._ It’s like El’s appearance is a manifestation of her internal beauty, just as beautiful outside as she is inside, shining through like a beacon in the darkness, drawing him towards her like a moth to a flame.

Mike hates the idea of El encountering his parents, hates the thought of his parents’ discordant chaos meeting up with El’s gentle, beautiful strength. He doesn’t want his parents embarrassing El, embarrassing _him,_ making her feel bad or uncomfortable or awkward. And, for a moment, he almost doesn’t want to even _tell_ El about his parents coming to visit.

But when she asks him what’s wrong, her voice soft and honestly concerned, Mike knows he can’t keep this from her.

And Mike immediately feels like a heel for all but whining at her about his parents as he starts to explain. El’s mother and step-father were horribly abusive, nearly killing her as child and giving her a life-long, legitimate fear of water. By contrast, his parents half-assed neglect is practically normal and nothing worth worrying about.

But El still offers to take them to dinner so he can tell her all about it and Mike almost completely falls in love with her right then and there. Because El’s so kind and just amazingly giving, it makes his heart hurt in the best way.

The Thai place they like is only a couple blocks away, so they walk, the late September evening air still warm enough so that neither of them need anything more than a thin jacket just in case.

They’re about 200 feet away from the front steps of their apartment building when the gentle knock of El’s shoulder against his arm pulls Mike from his internal drama. He glances over at her and his breath almost catches in his throat at the sight of the open caring on her face, soft and beautiful and everything he never knew he wanted until this moment. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” El asks.

Mike blushes a bit and fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest in some sort of weird self-hug. “It’s stupid,” he all but mumbles.

“Not if it’s affecting you like this, it’s not,” El says in retort. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know, Mike. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

Mike does, he _really_ does. It’s only been two months, but El’s become the person he goes to for, well... _everything_ (except for the fact that he’s always on the precipice of falling completely head over heels for her because... _yeah)._ Even over the rest of the Party, who he’s known for years, El’s the first person he thinks of to tell anything, partially because Mike knows she won’t give him shit like the rest of the Party is prone to doing.

But also because El’s so open, so trusting. When Mike has exciting news, El shares in the excitement, feeding into and returning it two-fold. And when Mike is having a problem, when there’s something that’s bothering him or getting him down, El’s ready with soft sympathy and open concern. Mike honestly doesn’t know what he did to have a friend like El in his life and he hopes he gives back to her just as much caring and support as she gives to him.

Still, it doesn’t mean that his problems don’t seem small in comparison to the shit El’s been through and Mike’s embarrassment about this just won’t die. “It’s still dumb,” Mike says, unable to stop blushing just a little. “But we’ll talk about when we sit down for dinner.” Mike nudges El back with his elbow, pleased at the amused smile that stretches up her lips. “Just realized I never said ‘hi’ to you when I got home. How was your day?”

El gives him a look that tells Mike she absolutely knows what he’s going – playing the avoidance game is something Mike’s gotten really good at over the years – but she goes along with it. “Pretty good,” she says. “I’m getting ready to handle a couple of cases on my own at work, so that’s exciting. And I talked to my dad today – he says hi, by the way.”

Mike lets out an incredulous laugh that trails off into a sigh. “You know, I’m kinda jealous you talk to your dad twice a week. You have such a good relationship with him.”

Mike glances over as El frowns up at him. “You don’t with your parents, I take it? But, I know you talk to your mom every other week….”

Looks like Mike’s attempt at avoidance worked as well as throwing a boomerang with the intent of getting rid of it. “Yeah, but it’s not like you and your dad. You’re actually _friends_ with your dad, like adult kids are supposed to be with their parents.”

If anything, El’s frown only deepens. “You don’t consider you and your parents to be friends?”

Mike swallows roughly as they cross the street onto the block the restaurant is on. “I mean, my mom and I can have good conversations, but I wouldn’t call us _friends._ And for my dad?” Mike pauses, letting the disappointment and a lifetime of hurt bubble up in his stomach as he thinks about his relationship with his dad...or, rather, the _lack_ of it. “Sometimes I wonder how he and I are even related.”

El’s hand comes up to give his upper arm a gentle squeeze. Her touch is meant to be comforting, and it is, but it’s also so very thrilling. Mike’s traitorous heart skips what feels like several beats, warmth spreading through him from where El’s touching him. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Sounds like the two of you don’t get along.”

 _That’s putting it mildly,_ Mike thinks but doesn’t say. His chest feels too tight, his throat thick, and he realizes he’s way too close to just losing it in public. As much as he wants to, spilling to El everything about the long, storied history with him and his dad is just not something he’s ready to do right at this moment. He glances away and finds that his vision is starting to blur with the beginning of tears and he chides himself for getting all worked up over something that, in the grand scheme of things, is small and almost petty. _Not like anything **El** ever went through, _ Mike thinks, shame creeping down his spine and slithering into his stomach.

The feel of a warm hand curling around his makes Mike jump and he blinks away the tears as he looks over at El before glancing down briefly at where El’s taken hold of his hand, her fingers gently weaving through his. It’s a friendly gesture, really, one of support and sympathy and openness, but it sends Mike’s heart soaring into the stratosphere, a complex mix of nervousness, happiness, gratitude, and affection swirling in his veins at the feel of her hand in his. He can’t speak, too overwhelmed, but he smiles at El and hopes that the gratitude he’s feeling for her is transmitted in the expression.

From the way El smiles, her cheeks flushing just a little in the prettiest blush Mike’s ever seen, he seems to have gotten the message across. And then El quirks an eyebrow, the expression on her face morphing into playful curiosity. “So, what did we want to have for dinner?” she asks, their arms swinging between them from where their hands are entwined.

The question is enough for Mike to get some mental space between him and his emotions. “Hmm,” he says slowly. “I’m thinking maybe the Drunken Noodles for me tonight.”

El lets out a giggle. “Ooh, good choice. Kao Soi for me, I think.”

“Wanna split a pitcher of beer to go with it?” Mike asks, grinning over at her.

Both of El’s eyebrows arch upward in almost incredulous disbelief. “Do you even have to ask?” she says, lips quirking with a grin.

Mike tilts his head in concession of her point. “Well, I figured it’d be polite, and all, since you’re paying for dinner, and everything.”

El bumps into him gently, her shoulder tapping against his upper arm. “We’re _friends,_ Mike. Friends do nice things for each other without having to be asked. You _do_ know that, right?” El’s eyes are sparkling, lit with gentle teasing and amusement, and her lips twitch like she’s holding back a laugh.

Mike jabs her with his elbow, a little awkwardly since he doesn’t want to let go of her hand, and gives her a mock glare. “Shut up, you,” he says, voice low and flat.

 _That_ unleashes the giggles El had been so successful in holding back and Mike feels pride swell inside of him that he can make El laugh like that. He wants to be someone who always makes her happy, who can draw laughter out of the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. And, for a just a moment, with her looking at him with naked happiness, their hands still clasped together, Mike can pretend that they’re more than just friends and his heart pangs with longing so poignantly tangible, it almost makes him gasp.

They hold hands the rest of the way to the restaurant and Mike only lets go of El’s hand when he absolutely has to, fingers trailing after her as she approaches the hostess stand. Mike tries not to notice how _cold_ his hand feels without hers in it and absolutely fails miserably. But he manages to ignore it as he and El are shown to their table and he lets himself get distracted by El’s excitement over what they’re about to have for dinner.

Mike and El spend almost an hour and a half in the restaurant, lingering over orders of spring rolls and Drunken Noodles and Kao Soi, splitting a pitcher of beer as they talk about everything and nothing, it feels like. Mike knows what El’s doing – she’s distracting him from his nervous anxiety – and it’s _working._

Slowly, Mike feels himself relax (though he’s sure some of that is because of the beer) and he’s grateful for El’s understanding, for her sympathy, for her caring. And, by the time they’re heading home, both a little buzzed, it feels like the iron bands have loosened around his heart and Mike can almost _breathe_ again, the thought of his parents coming to visit no longer feels like an insurmountable obstacle racing towards him.

And then, just outside the restaurant, El loops her arm around his and Mike suddenly can’t breathe again for an entirely _different_ reason. She’s so _close_ – close enough that he can smell hints of her shampoo and Mike has to almost physically restrain himself from leaning in to bury his face in her hair. Mike just wants her always like this, pressed up against his side, lithe and warm and beautiful. They’re just friends and he _knows_ this, but it’s so easy to let himself almost forget, to be seduced by the dream laid out in front of him just tantalizingly out of reach.

He can’t though, and not even the buzz of the alcohol floating in his veins can make him forget about reality. Still, though, it’s nice to be close to someone, nice to know he has someone in his corner. And so, the alcohol helping also remove him a little from the strangling emotions from earlier, Mike decides that now’s a good time to express that. He glances over at El, smiling softly to herself, and clears his throat. “Thank you, by the way.”

El’s gaze flicks over to him, her cheeks rosy from the beer they drank, and she wraps her arm tighter around his, squeezing him in the crook of her elbow. “ _Mike,"_ she says, amusedly chiding. “I told you, you don’t have to thank me for dinner.”

Mike lets out a scoff. “No, not for _that_ – though don’t get me wrong, I appreciate dinner – I meant for, just... _everything._ For listening, for being a good friend.” He pauses, glancing over at El again, holding her gaze for a moment that feels like it stretches into eternity. “For _everything._ Thank you.”

El’s eyes widen, her lips parting just so as her mouth falls open, and Mike _desperately_ wants to know what’s going through her head. But then she smiles, shaking her head in a way that has the ends of her ponytail whispering against the skin of her neck. Mike _so very badly_ wants to trace the path her hair draws on her skin with his own fingers and his mouth feels a little dry at the thought. “Of course,” El says a second later. “Anytime. I mean it. I’m always here for you, yeah?”

Despite trembling skip his heart gives at the sound of _always,_ Mike grins, lips curling up wryly. “Well, you might not say that after meeting my parents.”

El scrunches up her nose, giving him a look. “Mike, are they really that bad?”

The laugh that escapes him is both dry and humorless. “Well, my mom’s the textbook definition of ‘nosy and meddling’ and my dad has never approved of anything I do ever and, from the way my mom made it sound, he definitely does _not_ approve of the fact that I’m living with a woman.”

El frowns. “Well, that’s fucked up. Like a guy and a girl can’t live together as friends?”

“I’m sure it’s more than that,” Mike says, rolling his eyes. “Just as I’m sure he won’t hesitate to tell me about it.”

“Hmph, well, your parents can’t scare me, Mike. I’ve faced _much_ scarier, after all,” El says. And behind the words, spoken with gentle teasing, there’s a dark knowing that speaks to the depths of El’s history and Mike _knows_ she won’t be easily intimidated, legitimate fear of water aside.

And he’s glad he has her by his side. If he has to face a dinner with his parents when they insist on taking out his roommate as well, there’s no one else he’d rather have by his side.

He just hopes it _stays_ that way.

 

* * *

  
It feels both like Saturday will never arrive and is racing towards them too quickly. But, as it ever does, time marches on and regardless of whether Mike likes it or not, it's eventually Saturday.

The sun rises into a sky half covered with thin, wispy clouds and the air is lightly balmy with just the hint of fall around the corner. It’s a day meant to be spent wandering the city, walking through parks and taking in the sights.

Mike _wishes_ that was his plan. But it’s not. No, he’s spending the day _waiting_ for his parents to arrive, so they can meet El and take the two of them out to dinner. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it), El doesn’t have plans for the evening, so she’s free to become part of what Mike knows will inevitably be typical Wheeler family drama. The only thing she has planned is a hair appointment, scheduled that she should have enough time to get back to the apartment before 4:30, which is when his parents are planning on showing up.

Mike doesn’t leave the apartment at all on Saturday. He spends the day cleaning, anxiety needing an outlet, and El joins him until she has to get ready to leave.

“Hey, you going to be ok here on your own?” El asks as she shoulders her purse, standing in the entrance to the kitchen where Mike is furiously scrubbing the countertops.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he says, glancing over at her. “Go make your hair look pretty.”

El gasps, an affronted sound that is so over the top, Mike knows it’s fake, and presses a hand over her heart. “You mean it’s not pretty _now?"_

Mike narrows his eyes as he pretends to inspect her hair. It’s gorgeous, just like it always is, even though she hasn’t done anything to it other than throw it up in a loose bun, a few wispy, wavy curls falling around her face. “Hmm, could use a little upkeep,” he says, trying to fight the grin that threatens to break free.

“So mean,” El says, rolling her eyes. “I’m here, helping you prepare for your parents to come visit, and you insult my hair. Rude, Mike. _Rude."_

Mike shrugs, one shoulder lifting almost lazily. “Eh, you know I’m just kidding.”

El’s face softens and she smiles. “I know.” She steps closer to him and gives his arm a squeeze. “I’ll be back soon, ok?”

Mike grins. “Have fun getting your hair cut.”

El laughs as she moves towards the front door. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you which one I get cut.”

“Nah, I’ll just guess. It’ll be more fun that way,” Mike calls back as El opens the door.

“Nerd!” El launches back over her shoulder.

Then El’s gone and Mike’s left alone in the apartment, his anxiety roaring back in without El to help distract him from it. Mike gets back to cleaning, channeling that nervous energy, and tries not to count the minutes until both his parents get there _and_ El gets back.

Mike loves his parents, really...or, at least, he _cares_ about them (he definitely loves his mom; the jury’s out on his dad). But he _hates_ how they spring this on him. It’s not the first time they’ve dropped by with relatively little warning, unaware that their only son needs more than a couple of days to mentally prepare for the ordeal of being in their company. They come and visit and leave Mike an exhausted, nervous wreak each and every time and Mike _hates_ it. He much prefers when he has to go home for the holidays, where he knows weeks in advance when he’s going to be in his parents’ company and for how long, so he can psych himself up for it.

But, at least if he _has_ to deal with this, his parents’ last minute visit, he’ll have El’s steadying presence beside him to help weather it.

He just _really_ hopes his parents don’t make her feel weird or uncomfortable. When El signed the lease to become his roommate, his parents weren’t part of the bargain and Mike doesn’t want them scaring away his friend.

 _You’ve given El ample warning,_ Mike reminds himself. And it’s true – he’s spent too much time over the past couple of days telling El about his parents or, at least, the relevant parts – El’s about as ready as she’s going to be for this.

The thought helps Mike relax a little and he manages to finish his cleaning with a couple of hours to spare, passing the remaining time as he waits for El to come home with showering and lounging on his bed watching TV.

And then two things happen, each sending Mike’s heartbeat skyrocketing to pound furiously in his chest.

First, a little after 4, he gets a text from El. _I got started a little late. My hairdresser was running a little behind,_ it says. _But I should be out of here in about 10 minutes. Be home in 20?_

Mike gulps and takes a deep breath before he texts her back. It’ll be cutting it a little close, but it should be ok...he hopes. _That’s ok,_ Mike texts back. _Don’t kill yourself hurrying back, tho._

 _Thanks. Really sorry about this._ El finishes the text message with a frowny face emoji and Mike can’t help the small smile that crosses his face. Like so many things about her, El’s love of emojis is so _cute_ and it always makes him smile.

Still, Mike can’t deny that El coming home later than planned just ratchets up his anxiety that much more.

Then the second thing happens, only a couple of minutes after the first.

There’s a knock on the front door of the apartment.

His parents are _early._

_Fuck._

And Mike very suddenly wants to crawl out of his bedroom window.

But he doesn’t because he’s an _adult_ who doesn’t deal with his problems by avoiding them...or, at least, he shouldn’t.

Besides, if he does, his mom will never let him hear the end of it.

So, Mike sucks in another deep breath and pushes himself up off his bed so he can answer the door.

When he opens the door, Mike’s struck, as he always is, but how _little_ his parents seem to change. It’s like they’re stuck in some sort of time warp, frozen in the past forever, like the world’s most miserable, well-preserved couple. Sure, there’s a few more grays in his dad’s hair, and maybe the wrinkles around his mom’s eyes are a little deeper since she _refuses_ to acknowledge that she needs reading glasses, but otherwise, Ted and Karen Wheeler look just as they do in just about all of Mike’s memories.

Karen smiles when Mike opens the door and glances into the hallway where his parents are standing. Mike quickly glances behind his mom where his dad is looking down the hallway with an infuriating and just barely disapproving expression on his face. But Karen moves even as Mike is still opening the door, shouldering it open the rest of the way so she can practically launch herself at Mike in an enthusiastic hug. “Mike, oh it’s so good to see you!” Karen says as she pulls Mike towards her.

The sudden move knocks Mike off balance just a little and he fumbles a bit to hug his mom back, feeling her slight weight in his arms. It hits him, as it always does, just how _tiny_ his mom is. When he was little, she seemed so _big._ But now that he’s an adult, fully grown, Mike still can’t get over how the top of his mom’s head doesn’t even reach his shoulders.

And, Mike won’t lie, as anxious as this whole visit has made him, there’s still part of him that relishes in receiving a hug from his mom. “Hi mom,” he says. “You’re here early.”

“Well, we got tired of walking around Millennium Park, so we decided to come over early. Isn’t that right, Ted?”

Mike pulls back and looks over as his mom turns to his dad just as Ted practically _deigns_ to look back over at the both of them. There’s a sharpness to his mom’s tone that, with the disinterested look on his dad’s face, speaks to the fact the day hasn’t been the best, or even what his mom was hoping for.

Mike’s heart sinks, the fears he’s been trying to push down all day rising to the surface. Because the powder keg of his parents’ failing marriage has just been lit. And it’s only a matter of time before _something_ explodes.

“Mm-hmm,” Ted says. “What we decided.” He focuses on Mike. “Son, isn’t it about time you found a _better_ apartment? I swear this place is dingier than the last time I was here.”

Mike takes in a deep breath to keep from losing his shit – _not even a **minute** and he’s already criticizing _ – but his mom spares him from having to say something by speaking before he can. “Oh, Ted,” she chides, brow furrowing. “It’s a perfectly fine apartment. I mean, _really._ What do you expect, a penthouse? He’s a graduate student, for God’s sake.”

Karen’s words give Mike a moment to calm down and he steps away from where he’s standing in the front door to let his parents in. “You wanna come in? El’s on her way back – she had a hair appointment and it got started a little late – so she should be here soon.”

There’s a look that flashes across his dad’s face, but before Mike can decipher it, his mom pushes past and into the apartment. “Oh, not a problem. We are early, after all,” she says. Mike waits until his parents are completely in the living room before he closes the door. “Your place looks nicer than the last time we saw it.”

Mike glances around, trying to see what his mom is seeing, trying to see the apartment with fresh eyes. It hits him, in this moment, just how much El’s influence has spread across the place. There’s a new lamp on the end table and new throw pillows on the couch; the coffee table’s been rearranged, a new area rug beneath it, and there are decorative touches on the walls and on the TV stand; the kitchen’s been rearranged and the dining room table is clear and set, a runner down the middle, a centerpiece in the middle of that. There are a thousand small touches, countless little things, that makes it clear to Mike just how much El’s become a part of this place, how much she’s made it into her home. And it happened all without Mike really noticing, taking his mom to point it out to him.

Mike can’t deny how happy it makes him that the place El’s made her home is his home as well, so he smiles, feeling a little giddy and lovesick all at the same time. “Yeah, well, El has a knack for interior design. She’s been making small changes here and there for the past couple of months.”

“Typical woman,” Ted grumbles, almost out of the range of Mike’s hearing to the point where Mike’s not 100% sure he heard his dad correctly. But then his mom speaks again and draws Mike’s attention back to her.

“Well, she has a good eye,” Karen says, giving Mike a look that is both sly and approving at the same time.

Mike has to hold back a groan. _God,_ his mom is incorrigible. He knows _exactly_ what she’s doing – she’s not even trying to hide it – and Mike just hopes El doesn’t notice his mom’s completely unsubtle matchmaking efforts. “Yeah, I guess,” Mike says with a shrug. “Did you guys want something to drink, or anything? While we wait?”

Mike settles in to playing good host, getting his mom some water and his dad a beer (there’s no wine in the apartment, so his mom abstains, but Mike knows it’ll be a different story come dinner). But the next 10 minutes or so pass with awkward, stilted conversation interspersed with even more awkward, heavy silences. Mike finds himself wishing that a black hole would just open up right beneath him and swallow him whole. _Really, anything would be better than this._

And then, _finally,_ El comes home.

Mike’s in the middle of talking about the work he’s doing for his thesis when the tell-tale sound of the front door unlocking draws everyone’s attention, even his, away from what he’s saying.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” El says, the words rushed, voice pitched with apologetic panic. As Mike watches, El juggles with putting her keys in her purse, taking her shoes off and picking them up, _and_ turning around to close the door, all almost simultaneously. So she hasn’t noticed the fact that there are two extra people in the apartment yet. “The woman who went before me just took fucking _forever_ and I swear, I just wanted to-”

This is when El turns around and finally notices that Mike’s not the only other person in the apartment. She freezes, words dying mid-sentence, her expression morphing into one of shock – eyes wide, mouth open in a soft “oh”, eyebrows arched just so.

And yet, Mike’s heart takes flight at the sight of her. El is dressed simply, wearing jeans and a plain, gray v-neck shirt, neither article of clothing doing _anything_ to hide the svelte curves of her body, and her face is clean and mostly clear of makeup. But what’s drawing Mike’s attention is her _hair_ – freshly washed and styled from the salon, cascading down her neck and shoulders in lush waves, looking soft and so _fucking_ luxurious.

Mike loves her hair. He’s never touched it, though he desperately wants to; he wants so badly to run his fingers through her hair, to feel the strands slide against his skin. But he’s forever captivated by it, with the way it moves against her skin or how it bounces and sways when she wears it up in a ponytail or when she tucks it behind her ear or runs her own fingers through it.

Now’s really not the time to wax poetically about El’s hair, though, so Mike gives himself a mental shake to get his thoughts back on track. He glances quickly at his parents, who are staring back at El with equally shocked faces (though his mom looks pleased in a way that sets off the warning bells in the back of Mike’s mind), before he gives El a small smile. “Hey, El. My parents are here early.”

As Mike watches, El’s gaze flickers back and forth between him and his parents before she settles on him, lips curling up in an embarrassed, yet wry grin. “I can see that,” she says before looking back at his parents. “Hi, sorry about that,” she says as she sets both her shoes and her purse down on the ground by the front door. “I wanted to be home to greet you when you arrived, but, well, as you heard, I got held up.” El walks towards Mike’s parents and immediately reaches out to greet them with a handshake. “Hi, Mr. Wheeler, Mrs. Wheeler, I’m El, your son’s roommate.”

Mike’s dad goes first and then his mom, who takes El’s hand in both of hers to give El a long, lingering greeting. “You can go ahead and call me Karen. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

El lets out a light giggle as Karen lets go of her hand, that same hand coming up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Oh, believe me, the pleasure’s all mine. Mike’s a wonderful person. You must be so proud.”

Karen’s smile, which had been firmly affixed on her face, just _grows_ as she simpers under the praise (and, Mike won’t lie, his own heart swells in his chest at hearing the praise, his stomach swooping at El calling him “wonderful”). “Oh, aren’t you sweet? Thank you, dear, but I’m afraid he did most of that on his own.”

El shrugs, disarmingly adorable. “Still, your son’s one of the good ones and I’m sure you had a hand in that.” She smiles at both of Mike’s parents before gesturing towards the hallway. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to go change. Not exactly appropriately dressed to be going out to dinner. Be right back.”

With that, El dashes away, disappearing down the hallway and leaving Mike alone with his parents once more. Apprehension crawls down Mike’s spine as he turns to where his parents are sitting on the couch. “So, that’s my roommate.”

Karen gives Mike a look that is almost manic in how overjoyed it is. “Oh, Mike, she’s a lovely young woman. And so pretty! You never said she was so pretty.”

At that, Ted makes a noise, a disgruntled murmur from the back of his throat, and Mike turns to look at his dad, his face carefully flat. “What, dad?”

Ted meets Mike’s eye and the look on his face is so frustratingly walled off, it makes Mike want to yell. “Nothing. She seems like a nice person.” The words are polite, but there’s something off in Ted’s tone, something that raises the hackles on the back of Mike’s neck. And Mike just _knows_ that his dad is lying. Only Mike really doesn’t want to confront his dad, not when he’s going to have to play nice for the next however many hours he has to be in his parents’ presence.

“You said she’s a social worker?” Karen asks and Mike lets his mom monopolize his attention, resolving to put his dad’s weird disappointment in the back of his mind.

“Yeah, she is. It’s why she moved out to Chicago; she got a job with Social Services out here and needed somewhere to live,” Mike says. “She’s still working her way up to working cases on her own, but...well, I’ll let you tell her about it. It is _her_ job, after all.”

“Is she seeing anyone?” Karen asks, all false innocence, voice just a little too bright and nonchalant.

Mike rolls his eyes and lets out a heaving sigh. “Mom, _don’t._ El’s my friend and my roommate, ok? I know what you’re trying to do and it _really_ isn’t appreciated.”

Karen sniffs and eyes Mike, brows arched a bit primly, lips pursed. “I was just _asking,_ Michael. Am I not allowed to ask questions? And I wasn’t trying to do anything. I don’t know why you always think the worst of me.”

Guilt swirls in his stomach, warring with the exasperation that prickles along his skin. “I don’t think the worst of you,” Mike says, trying to placate her. “But this isn’t the first time you’ve hinted at this and, I’m sorry, but it makes things awkward.” Mike _hopes_ El can’t hear what’s going on out here. They don’t both need to be embarrassed by his mom.

Like she knew she was being talked about, El’s door opens and Mike looks over to see El coming back out to the living room. She’s exchanged the t-shirt and jeans for a thin knit sweater and a flowing black skirt, looking temptingly demure and so very beautiful. Her hair’s still down and there might be a little more makeup on her face, but El still looks clean and fresh faced. Really, everything about her is just _perfect_ and Mike can’t help the way he falls in love with her just a little bit in this moment.

“Hi again, sorry,” El says. “I’m not usually this scattered, but running late seems to have broken my brain.” She goes and grabs a chair from the dining room so she can sit across from the couch.

“Oh, that’s ok, dear,” Karen says as El sits down. “I completely understand.”

El gives Karen a small, grateful smile. “Thanks,” she says with a half-shrug, still a little embarrassed but wanting to move past it. Then her smile turns in a playful, curious grin. “So, where are we going for dinner? I don’t know a lot about the city yet, but I’m sure Mike has some recommendations if you’re not sure where to go.” Mike knows enough about El to realize that she’s nervous – her voice overly bright, perhaps a little too polite – and it’s touching to know that she’s trying to make a good impression.

“Thanks, but I’ve already picked out a restaurant,” Ted says, cutting into the conversation, his tone flat and brokering no nonsense, like he’s almost offended that El would think he needs her help – or _anyone’s_ for that matter.

As Mike watches, El’s shoulders slump a little and she leans back in her seat, visibly shrinking. “Oh, ok.” There’s a pregnant pause, silence filled with an awkwardness that grows larger by the millisecond. “So, did we want to head out, then? I know you have quite a drive to get back home and I would hate for you to be delayed in getting back on the road.”

Karen smiles, though her eyes are sending daggers in Ted’s direction. “That’s a great idea, El. Yes, let’s head out.”

They all pile awkwardly into Ted’s car, Mike and El sharing the backseat as Ted drives them to a decent steakhouse he must have picked out from Yelp or something.

A subtle tap on Mike’s leg draws his attention away from watching the scenery go by and he turns to look over at El. She shrugs, frowning a little, expression one of resignation. “Sorry,” she mouths.

Mike gives her a small smile and just shakes his head, even as he’s growing increasingly frustrated with his parents (well, his _dad,_ really). He just knew something like this was going to happen and he feels bad that El got caught in the crossfire. “It’s ok,” he mouths back, reaching to give her hand a small squeeze, his palm tingling from the feel of her skin.

A pretty flush spreads over El’s cheeks and she smiles, looking down for a just a second, before she looks back at him with grateful eyes. “Thank you.” Again, her mouth moves without sound and Mike’s drawn to way her lips shape the words, imagining how it would feel to have her mouth those words against his – _her lips, soft and pink and lush, pressing against his, light and teasing, before he leans in further and fully captures her mouth in a kiss that makes his heart **sing** …. _

Mike has to look away, even if only for a second, to rein in his thoughts, to get himself under some measure of control so he doesn’t act on the fantasy his imagination is weaving for him. It’s just too tempting, the lure of the fantasy playing in his mind, and Mike’s not strong enough, not anywhere close to it, to resist its pull for long.

When he looks back up, though, it’s El’s turn to look away, the expression on her face both shy and a little sad. Her hand slides out from beneath his, leaving him bereft of her touch, and Mike keenly misses the warmth of her skin against his even as he’s wondering why she suddenly looks sad, all the while hoping it wasn’t something he did.

But, El looks mostly normal again, if still a little nervous, by the time they get to the restaurant. And it’s not a bad restaurant – Mike’s been here before with his parents once or twice and the food’s pretty good. Mike figures that as long as he can survive the next couple of hours, everything will be fine.

And, for a little while, it is. Most of the conversation is driven by Karen, who peppers both Mike and El with question after question. Ted is mostly silent, interjecting into the conversation every so often with either a not-so-gentle correction or thinly veiled condescension, and Mike notices El giving his dad annoyed and disapproving looks out of the corner of her eye, but Ted doesn’t seem to notice.

(Not that Ted’s _ever_ noticed anything or had any sort of self-awareness. Mike sometimes envies the way his dad blindly stumbles through life seemingly without care or reflection. What he wouldn’t give to be that blithely ignorant.)

But then, Karen asks a question that brings the conversation to a, well... _unfortunate_ place. “So, El,” Karen starts after swallowing bite of her grilled salmon. “Mike tells me you’re from Indianapolis.”

El covers her mouth as she quickly finishes chewing and swallowing the bit of steak she had in her mouth, making a noise in affirmation. “Yes, I am,” she says with a soft smile on her face. “I lived there with my dad from when I was about 10 until I moved here to Chicago.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Karen says. “I’m sure your father must miss you, being so far away.”

El shrugs, her smile quirking into a grin. “We talk a couple of times a week, so he still gets to tease me from afar. Luckily, he can take it as well as he gives it, so it’s a little like I’ve never left.”

Karen gives Mike a dry look, one eyebrow arched just so, lips twisted into a wry grin. “I wish _this_ one called home as much as you do.”

“Ugh, _Mom,"_ Mike groans, rolling his eyes.

El laughs. “Well, it’s been just me and my dad for a long time – we were pretty much all each other had while I was growing up – but he’s been talking about moving back home.” El pauses, smiling. “I think you might become neighbors, actually.”

“What do you mean?” Karen asks with a tilt of her head, brow furrowing just a little. Mike spares a glance at Ted to see his dad taking a huge gulp of his beer, the look on his face both dissatisfied and disinterested at the same time. Concern ripples through him, but Mike shakes it off as he looks back over at El, determined to try and not let his dad’s eternal disappointment drag him down.

El glances over at Mike, catching his eye, confusion writ large in her gaze before she looks back over at Karen. “Mike didn’t tell you about my dad?”

Karen gives Mike _another_ look. “My son is notoriously tight-lipped about a lot of things.”

“Honestly, Mom, I just forgot to mention this,” Mike says, trying to come to his own defense. But the weak protestation rings hollow even to his ears. He totally didn’t forget to mention this – he just chose not to.

El flashes Mike a quick, forgiving smile before she turns her full attention to Karen. “Well, my dad grew up in Hawkins and, when I told him about Mike being my roommate, turns out my dad recognized his last name. He went to high school with you, actually.”

“Oh, what a small world!” The smile on Karen’s face blossoms to unbelievably bright levels and Mike can almost literally see the gears turning in his mom’s brain.  _This_ is why he didn't tell his mom about El's dad. “What’s his name? Maybe I remember him.”

“My dad’s name is Jim Hopper,” El says. “I think he was in your year.”

“Oh, I remember him!” Karen says before turning to her husband. “Ted, you remember Jim Hopper, don’t you? I had homeroom with him all throughout high school.” Karen turns back to El, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Your dad was one of the cool kids, always hanging out by the bleachers and looking too cool by half.” She then glances at Mike, a grin on her face. “And he spent a lot of time with Joyce Byers – well, she was Joyce Horowitz, then.”

Karen’s grin is infectious and Mike finds himself smiling almost despite himself as he nudges El with his elbow. “Sounds like your dad and Will’s mom were a thing.”

El giggles. “Oh man, I’m _so_ gonna tease Will about this when I see him. I wonder if my dad might still carry a torch for Will’s mom.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Karen says. “Joyce was quite the looker back in the day. _Everyone_ had a thing for her.” She looks at Mike, giggling a little. “Including your father.”

Mike shudders. “Ugh, _Mom,_ I really didn’t need to know that Dad had a crush on Will’s mom.”

Karen clicks her tongue. “Your father and I _did_ have lives before we got together, you know.”

“So, your father ever manage to make anything of himself?” Ted asks, just cutting into the conversation with all the grace of a stampeding bull.

Mike cringes, especially when El frowns, lips pressed together tightly. “Well, he’s a police detective in Indianapolis right now, if that’s what you’re asking,” El says, the words a little slow and hesitating. Confusion spreads across her face and Mike feels apprehension slither down his spine to pool in his stomach.

Ted lets out a snort, lips curling in the beginnings of a sneer. “That’s rich. Never would have pictured Jim Hopper on _that_ side of the law.” Ted eyes El as he cuts up his steak. “Your dad ever tell you about the kind of trouble he used to get up to? I’m surprised he’s not in jail.”

Karen gasps. “Ted, that’s enough! El’s our _guest."_

“No, it’s ok,” El says before squaring her gaze at Ted. “Yes, my dad told me some of the stuff he got up to when he was younger. I think it helped him in raising me when I was a teenager.”

The sneer of Ted’s face turns to a self-satisfied smirk. “So, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Tell me, what kind of trouble are you going to get my son into?”

By this point, Mike can only watch in horrified shock as he dad and El face off from across the table. Karen’s face has gone pale, eyes wide and helpless, but Mike barely notices as he takes in the sight of El’s face, set with determination, cheeks flushing with anger. “Ok, look, I’m not sure why you’re acting like I have some sort of master plan. Your son posted an ad for a roommate online. I answered it. It’s a nice room for a good price, so I took it. We became friends. That’s all.”

Ted stabs his steak with his fork. “Typical Hopper, taking advantage of others’ kindness. Now, I know my son isn’t going to amount to much, but I thought I raised him to be a little smarter than that. Should have known he wouldn’t be able to resist a pretty girl looking for someone she could walk all over. Your father must be proud.”

Hurt pangs hollow in Mike’s chest, hearing his father talk about him that way, and it mixes with embarrassment that _El_ is here to witness it, shame spreading through his veins. “Ok, you know what?” El says, balling up her napkin from her lap and dumping it on the table. “You can insult me all you want, I can take it. But I don’t have to sit here and listen to you use me to talk shit about my dad or my friend – who is _your son,_ by the way. So if you want to criticize _anyone's_  parenting ability, maybe you should start by taking a long, hard look in the mirror.” She stands, gathering her purse and digging through it until she pulls out a couple of 20 dollar bills and practically throws them at Ted. “Here’s my portion for dinner. Karen, it was nice to meet you and Mike, I’ll see you at the apartment.”

And, with that, El storms off, a cloud of righteous anger in her wake. Mike watches her go, amazed and shocked at the same time. He’s _never_ seen anyone stand up to his dad like that in his entire life and his heart thumps heavily in his chest with pride and affection and _awe,_ even as his stomach churns with hurt and anger of his own, spiced with a little disappointment that he’s not as brave as El is, not enough of a man to stand up to his own father himself.

“There is something _seriously_ wrong with you, Ted,” Karen says, glaring over at him, before she gets to her feet and rushes after El, who’s now about 15 feet away from the table. “El, wait. I’m _so_ sorry….” Her voice fades into the general background noise of the restaurant, leaving Mike and his dad at the table alone.

“See, son? Women like that are nothing but trouble: rude and ungrateful. A bad seed just like her father, that one, mark my words,” Ted says around a mouthful of steak. “Now, I don’t blame you for being taken in by a pretty face – lord knows we’ve all been there before. But don’t let her fool you, Mike. Fuck her, if she lets you, but, dear god, don’t _fall_ for her. And when your lease is up, get her out of your life as fast as you can. You don’t want her dragging you down and messing up your future, now do you?”

Mike’s jaw drops and, for the first time in his life, his anger at his dad gets the best of him. “Ok, _wow._ Fuck you, Dad. Who do you think you are, anyway, insulting my friend like that? You don’t even _know_ her or what her life’s been like. I know you’ve never been proud of me, but I didn’t know until now just how much of an _asshole_ you are.” Mike shakes his head, rage burning hot in his veins, as he stands and storms out, leaving his dad all by himself and not caring about that fact one bit. He pretends not to see the stern disappointment on his dad’s face, ignoring the sound of his dad calling after him.

It takes Mike until he’s halfway out of the restaurant to realize that there are tears in his eyes, fueled by a potent combination of anger and hurt and embarrassment, and he feels like he’s going to be sick to his stomach. He _needs_ to talk to El, to tell her how sorry he is. But, equally, he wants his _friend_ – he wants the support and friendship El so easily gives, he wants to have her lend a listening ear. El understands like no one he’s ever met, like no one he’s ever _known._

He can only pray that his dad hasn’t fucked it all up. Honestly, Mike wouldn’t blame El for wanting nothing to do with him, after how his dad treated her. Mike’s just as disgusted with his dad’s behavior, with the things he _said,_ the insinuations he made about El. Mike honestly doesn’t know how he can be related to that man.

After what just happened, Mike hopes El will be willing to listen to his apology. God, she _has_ to be willing. Any other alternative is just... _too horrible_ to think about. The need to talk to El is almost unbearable now, driving Mike almost to desperation and he finds himself moving faster through the restaurant, his steps nearing a light jog.

He’s nearly to the host’s stand when he runs into his mom on her way back to the table, distraught, her face marred with a frown that pinches the corners of her mouth and highlights the age lines on her face. “Mike, where are you going?” she asks, voice pitching higher with panic, the words spoken almost breathlessly.

The naked emotion on his mom’s face almost overwhelms him, but he’s too angry and hurt to shield her from it. “Away from him,” Mike says, gesturing back to the main dining room of the restaurant. “After what he said about me _and_ about El? No way am I staying. I’m sorry, Mom, but he went way too far this time.”

“Mike, no, he didn’t mean it. You know how your father is,” Karen says, reaching out to grab onto his arm, fingernails digging into his skin through the thin fabric of his sweater.

Mike gently pulls his arm from her grip. “No, Mom. He _did_ mean it,” he says, voice quiet yet firm. “You didn’t hear how he talked about El after you followed her. I can’t be around someone who doesn’t respect my friends like that.” Mike sighs and shakes his head. He _really_ doesn’t want to talk about this with his mom anymore. “Where’s El? Did you talk to her?”

Karen’s frown only deepens and she glances away. “I apologized for your father’s behavior and tried to convince her to come back, but she wouldn’t.”

Mike chews on the inside of his cheek and draws in a deep breath in an attempt to try and calm himself down. “Where’d she go?”

Karen looks a little started by the question and turns a little to glance behind her. “I-I don’t know, I-”

“Look, Mom, I gotta go,” Mike says as he starts to move past her. “I’ll talk to you later.” He _needs_ to talk to El.

“But, Mike, wait, I-”

Mike turns and gives his mom a hug. “Mom, I love you, but I _have_ to go.”

And, with that, Mike all but runs out of the restaurant, eyes scanning the sidewalk on either side of the restaurant for where El could have gone off to. His heart feels like it’s in his throat, pulse beating wildly, hope thrumming in each contraction.

But El’s nowhere to be found and Mike’s heart drops from his throat and into the pit of his stomach, hopes cruelly dashed as his spirits sink down somewhere below his feet. He swallows roughly, tears pricking behind his eyes and swelling in his throat. “ _Fuck,"_ he spits out, jaw tightening as he tries to gulp in deep breaths of air. He balls his hands into fists and clenches them tight to resist the urge to turn around and punch the wall behind him. “God _dammit.”_

Mike honestly doesn’t know if he wants to cry or scream, but he swallows down the emotions that threaten to burst free. He has no idea where El is or how she’s getting home and he’s too much of a coward to call her to find out the answer to either question.

 _Besides, she might want some space to cool off. She was **pretty** pissed, _ he thinks, remembering the high flush on El’s cheeks and the iron in her voice before she left. And, as horrible as the last 15 minutes have been, Mike can’t help but think just how _beautiful_ El is full of righteous fury, all headstrong and valkyrian, which just makes this whole thing even more horribly tangled.

Not wanting to go back in to the restaurant and feeling frustrated that he can’t find El, Mike decides to just head home. He almost wants to call an Uber so he can slink home with minimal effort, but his bank account really can’t afford the expense when he knows the nearest L station is only a few blocks away. So, with a sigh and slumped shoulders, Mike starts walking in the direction of train that will take him home, hands stuffed in his pockets and head bowed.

As he makes his way home, the anger doesn’t dissipate exactly, but it cools, coagulating with the embarrassment and hurt that’s still lingering. It makes him feel both anxious and depressed as he wonders just _what_ he’s going to say to El, how he’s going to apologize. All he does know is that he hopes El knows that he’s _nothing_ like his father and that she’ll be willing to listen.

Regardless, Mike doesn’t know if he’s ever going to be able to forgive his father for this. Even if he didn’t have the worst crush on El _ever,_ she’s his _friend_ and a good person who doesn’t deserve to be talked about like his dad talked about her. And he’s suddenly dreading going home for the holidays with this loitering in the room like the most awkward elephant known to man. He knows his dad is never going to apologize and Mike isn’t sure he can be around his dad if he won’t. It makes him _never_ want to go back home to Hawkins...which would only hurt his mom and make him feel horribly guilty at the same time.

So, Mike’s not sure what he’s going to do.

 _Maybe give it some time before trying to solution your way out of this,_ he thinks as he gets on the train maybe 20 minutes later. _Focus on El right now, on apologizing for your horrible father and begging her to still be your friend and roommate._

He focuses the rest of the way home on just that, on thinking about what he’s going to say and how he’s going to convince her to not move out and away from him, his heart pounding faster and faster as he gets closer to home, both nervous and excited at the same time.

But, when Mike gets home, El’s not there. The apartment is dark and quiet; El’s shoes are nowhere to be found and a quick glance in her bedroom shows it equally as empty as the rest of the apartment.

The last of the wind rushes out of Mike’s sails and he can’t help the whine that escapes him as he all but drags his feet over to the couch and flops down on it. The tears that he’d been able to banish come roaring back with a vengeance and Mike has to pull in several deep, shaky breaths to keep them from spilling down his cheeks. Really, dissolving into tears is just about the absolute last thing he needs, since El _has_ to come home eventually.

_Right?_

Mike draws in a shaky breath as he lets his head fall back against the back of the couch. He throws his arm over his eyes in a last-ditch bid to keep the tears at bay and, with the resulting darkness that’s cast over him, Mike lets himself sit and stew. Every second that passes is one full of misery and nervousness as he waits for El to get back home so he can apologize.

He just hopes she can forgive him.

 

* * *

  
For about 15 minutes right after leaving the restaurant, El just _walks,_ not going anywhere in particular. She just lets the pavement absorb the immediate heat of her anger one step at a time until what’s left is a distressing combination of cold indignation towards Mike’s father and overwhelming sadness for Mike, himself.

Mike hasn’t really said much about his dad throughout the time El’s known him, but the little bits she did get, especially over the past couple of days, really didn’t sound great. In fact, they sounded pretty horrible. El’s come to know, though, that Mike is sometimes prone to being a little hyperbolic, so she figured that the tidbits he’d shared about his dad fell into the same classification.

Turns out the truth is actually _worse_ than Mike led El to believe.

The things Ted Wheeler said to her, and the ease with which he said them, are still sending shockwaves of anger through her. El’s heart goes out to Mike if _that’s_ what he had to grow up with. Yeah, El didn’t have the best childhood - pretty shitty, in fact, by just about any standard - but once she started living with her dad, at least she had a home life that was happy and steady and supportive. El can’t imagine Mike had anything close to the same, given Ted’s callous behavior _and_ Karen’s shocked silence (which is a shame because, other than seeming to let her husband insult their child, Karen Wheeler seems to be a nice person, so that makes it all the more disappointing).

 _God, poor Mike,_ El thinks as she sits down on bench at a bus stop, slumping against it as her heart squeezes painfully in her chest. The image of him sitting next to her as the restaurant flashes in her mind’s eye – ashamed, embarrassed, _hurt,_ looking so sad and vulnerable it had almost broken through the wall of anger that risen up inside of her – and El takes in a shaky breath, the air hitching in her throat.

She wonders if he’s still there, if he’s continuing to let himself be subjected to being emotionally and verbally abused by his dad, and El finds her anger reasserting itself at the thought, coming to life once more as it centers around one, crystalline thought: _he doesn’t deserve this._

No, Mike deserves to have a loving family, to be surrounded by people who support him and cherish him, who treat him with respect. El hopes, _prays_ he gets that someday, that he meets someone who will love him like he deserves, who will give him the family he should have always had.

_(she tries, and fails miserably, not to imagine **herself** fulfilling that role, providing mike with that sense of support and love, that sense of **family** , and it makes her heart jump up into her throat as longing, deep and overwhelming, rushes through her.) _

Until then, though – until Mike meets that special someone – El will do her best to be something close, to be someone who always has his back. And she wants to start by letting Mike know that he has nothing to be embarrassed over. What happened at the restaurant wasn’t his fault – after all, he can’t control his dad, who’s a full grown adult and in charge of his own faculties – and El wants to make sure that Mike knows that.

 _But, first, food._ El stormed out of there before she was even halfway through with her meal and she’s still hungry. Nose scrunching up as she thinks, El rests her hand on her stomach and tries to figure out what she wants to eat.

It doesn’t take long for El to settle on pizza (because she can _always_ eat pizza) and after a quick Yelp search and phone call later, El arranges for a Lyft to come and take her home with a quick detour to the pizza place on her way.

El lets herself get lost in surfing the internet on her phone – checking the news, scrolling through her Twitter and Instagram feeds – and, before she knows it, she’s back at the apartment, pizza in one hand as she unlocks the door with the other, prepared to wait for Mike to come home so she talk to him.

So she’s a little startled to see Mike already home, sitting on the couch like he’s waiting for _her._

There’s a moment, a brief span of maybe a couple of seconds, where the sound of El opening the door hasn’t fully registered for Mike, before he moves, and gives El a chance to take in the sight of Mike slumped on the couch, one arm thrown over his face, like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible and deny the existence of the rest of the world. The image in front of her isn’t helped by the way the apartment is cast in deep shadows, the only light the deepening twilight that streams in through the windows as the sun sets off to the west.

El’s heart lurches in her chest, squeezing with enough force to make her nearly gasp out loud. “Mike?” she asks as he starts moving, the sound of her coming home startling him.

Mike lowers his arm and El hears him take in a deep, shocked breath as he looks at her, all downcast and mournful. “Hey, you’re back,” he says. His eyes land on the pizza box in her hands, startled curiosity breaking through the naked emotion on his face. “You brought food?”

El shrugs as she closes the door behind her and kicks off her shoes. “Yeah, well, since I didn’t finish dinner….” El lets her words trail off, not needing to say anything more since they both know _why._

A blush crawls up Mike’s cheeks. “You, um...you mind sharing?” he asks, wincing a bit as the words leave his mouth. “I left pretty much right after you did.”

 _So he’s been home this whole time,_ El thinks, filling in the blanks. “Yeah, of course,” she hurries to say as she comes over to the couch and sets the pizza box on the coffee table. “Don’t even worry about it.” El tosses her purse next to the pizza box as she sits down.

El turns to look at Mike as he does the same and, a second later, they’re both talking. “El, I’m so-” – “Mike, are you-”

The words fold over each other, blending together in a concerned harmony, and they both stop when they realize the other was also talking. For just a second, they stare at each other and El finds herself momentarily spellbound by the pattern of his freckles across skin that is a little too pale and her heart gives another painful squeeze at the look in Mike’s eyes – concerned and fearful and so, _so_ hurt.

Mike gives her a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You first.”

El smiles back, turning completely so she can face him, one leg folded in front of her on the couch. “Mike, are you ok?” she asks, restarting her original sentence. “I’m sorry I just left you there – I couldn’t stay after what your dad said – but don’t think I didn’t notice that you were affected by what happened, too. And, well, I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

Mike stares at her, blinking almost owlishly a couple of times, before disbelief fills his face, like he can’t believe she’s real or something. “You’re not mad at me?”

El’s brow furrows and she feels herself frowning. “Mad at you? No, Mike, _no._ Your dad is a full grown adult. It’s not your fault he also happens to be an asshole.” She reaches for him, hand coming to rest lightly on his forearm. “I would _never_ blame you for what happened. I’m just _so_ sorry that’s what you’ve had to put up with. You don’t deserve that, Mike, you really don’t. You deserve to have a dad who actually cares about you.”

Mike doesn’t say anything in response, but El watches as he swallows roughly, looking away as his face tightens around the corners of his eyes, the crease of his mouth, the lines of his jaw, and El just _knows_ he’s trying not to cry. El wonders if anyone’s ever told him he deserves to be loved and cared for and she feels a lump of tears rise in her own throat at the thought.

El’s moving before she’s even fully aware of it, leaning forward to pull him towards her in a hug that says everything she can’t put into words – that she’s sorry, that she hurts for him, that she wishes she could make things better for him and that she could never, _ever_ be mad at him, that she cares about him almost more than she can admit.

Mike responds immediately, arms wrapping around her in a tight hug and El feels like her soul _clicks_ into place, heart singing with the feel of having his arms wrapped around her. Mike’s hugs feel _amazing_ and El loves the solid warmth of his embrace. But Mike holds onto her like he needs her, taking comfort instead of giving it, and El just holds him that much tighter. His head rests almost in the crook of her neck, chin propped up on her shoulder as he draws in breaths that are as deep as they are shaky, like he’s on the verge of losing it entirely and only by the grace of god does he manage to hold himself together.

“Hey, it’s ok,” El says. “You don’t have to be strong for me.”

“I’m sorry.” Mike’s voice trembles, the words breathed against the side of her neck.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I got you, Mike. I’m _here."_ She’s nearly as quiet as Mike is, her voice feeling thin and reedy – _tremulous_ – her heart breaking as she feels Mike’s fingers curl into the fabric of her sweater, like everything will be fine as long as he’s holding her as tight as possible.

El’s not sure how long they sit there like this, holding each other in a tight embrace that warms her as much as it tugs on every heartstring she has. Mike lets out the occasional sniffle, though no tears fall that El’s aware of. And, other than that, the only sound in the living room is that of their breathing, his a little harsher than hers, but both deep and even.

El can feel Mike’s chest rise and fall with every breath and she shifts the way she’s holding him so that one hand is resting on the back of his opposite shoulder while the other is gently cupping the back of his head just above the nape of his neck. His hair is soft beneath her fingers and his skin warm where the base of her palm is touching his neck and it feels like _everything_ El’s ever wanted. It’s maybe too intimate of a hug for friends, too close and lasting way too long, but El doesn’t care. Not when it feels _this good,_ not when she can care for him the way he’s already shown he cares for her.

But all things, _especially_ good things, must come to an end.

El feels Mike loosen his hold on her and it triggers her to release him in kind, the two of them slowly sliding out of each other’s embrace. But they only pull back far enough so they can look at each other, their faces inches apart. Butterflies explode in El’s heart at how close he is, her breath catching in her throat. The look on Mike’s face is soft and awed, tinged with a gentle disbelief, and El watches as his gaze dances across her face, like he’s trying to memorize her.

“Thank you,” Mike says, his voice low and a little husky, close enough so that El can feel the gentle exhalation of his breath on her face. The words are heavy, spoken with what feels like a thousand meanings, and El swears she feels each of them with dizzying intensity.

“Anytime,” El says, on the verge of not being able to breathe. God, he’s close – _too_ close, maybe – so handsome and open and _amazing._ Her gaze, unbidden, drops to his mouth and she knows it would be the easiest thing to lean in and press her lips to his, to finally know what it would be to kiss him, her heart racing at the thought.

 _Yeah, because that’s the **friendly** thing to do, _ her brain whispers at her, a not-so-subtle reminder that she’s _comforting_ him right now, that this isn’t anything more than two friends being there for each other in times of need.

So, El forces herself to look away before she does something reckless like _actually_ kiss him and ruin everything, pulling back so he’s not quite so close. “We should eat before pizza gets too cold,” El says, voice trembling a little with a potent combination of desire and fear, fear of how close she came to maybe screwing everything up.

Mike stares at her for a long, heavy second, the look in his eyes inscrutable, like he’s either a little scared as well or trying to figure out what the hell is going on. But then he smiles, the corners of his mouth curling up just a little. “Yeah, good idea. Hey, you wanna pick out something to watch while I get plates and stuff?”

El lets out an incredulous laugh, shaking her head as her laughter leaves her in a soft breath. “Nope, you’ve had the shitty day. _You_ pick out what we watch while I get supplies,” she says as she gets up from the couch. “You want a beer?” she asks with a squeeze of his shoulder as she walks by.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Mike says, waiting until she’s walked past before reaching for the remote. “Thanks.”

“Don’t pick anything stupid to watch and we’ll call it even,” El says, pausing to look over her shoulder and give him a teasing grin.

That earns her a laugh and the sound of Mike’s laughter makes her heart take flight and join the butterflies that are still fluttering in her veins. “I’ll try, but no promises.”

By the time El settles back in, having grabbed plates and napkins along with the aforementioned beers, Mike’s queued up an episode of “The Flash”, which they’ve been slowly watching over the past few weeks. The entire time, El can't help but shake the feeling like something unidentifiable has shifted in the ground beneath her feet, leaving her feeling a tad breathless despite how much she tries to ignore it.

If they’re each sitting a little too close while they eat, thighs just barely touching where they’re sitting on the couch, neither of them say anything about it. And when El eventually lays her head on Mike’s shoulder, claiming that he makes a good pillow, she tries to ignore the way she hears Mike’s breath stutter and how her pulse races tremulously in her veins.

It’s just too bad that she fails miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, we're staring to turn a corner here, folks! we are definitely in "falling deeply in love" territory here (even if they haven't used those words _quite_ yet.
> 
> (also, ted wheeler is an asshole and i make no apologies by taking what i see as not-too-far-out-there liberties with his character)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I finished another chapter!! I've been calling this portion of the story the "Holy shit, they're in love" chapter, so I hope it lives up to the moniker I gave it! Enjoy!!

It’s a scream that wakes Mike up in the middle of the night.

Later, he’ll figure that he hadn’t been sleeping that deeply when the sound wormed its way through his brain. But in the moment when he first wakes up, startled and disoriented, it feels like he’s been pulled out of a deep sleep, mind fuzzy, panic and confusion roaring through his veins.

His mind races to understand what just happened when another scream rings out that has his heart leaping up into his throat.

_El._

Mike’s out of bed before his brain can fully comprehend what he’s doing, action without thought. His limbs are shaky and sleep-numbed, his mind a couple of steps behind, but he’s out of his room and opening El’s door before more than a few seconds have passed.

There’s enough light streaming in through the window from the streetlamps for Mike to see clearly into El’s room and his gaze lands immediately on the bed in the middle of the room….

_And the person thrashing back and forth in it._

There’s a lot that goes on in Mike’s head in a very short period of time after he registers what he's seeing.

The first and foremost is that everyone is physically ok – there’s no intruder and no one’s hurt or dying – there’s no need to fight anyone off or get anyone to the hospital. The realization sets of a wave of relief racing through Mike’s limbs that mixes dizzyingly with the adrenaline soaked into his blood.

But the thought that drives out everything else – how late it is, how the air in the apartment is maybe a little too cool on the skin of his bare chest, how he very much wants a glass of water for his dry mouth – is that El’s very obviously having a nightmare.

A _really bad_ nightmare.

Mike doesn’t even hesitate as he makes his way over to El’s bed, sitting down on the edge closest to where El is twisting and turning beneath the covers.

_(he tries not to notice – and fails miserably – that the side of the bed el seems to prefer is opposite side that **he** prefers and **oh isn’t that convenient** ….) _

“No, stop, _please,_ no, no, no….” El’s words are spoken with a voice hoarse with sleep, made ever rougher from her screams. But what sets off the hackles on the back of Mike’s neck is the rising edge of panic in El’s voice, the kind of panic that means she’s about to scream again.

Mike reaches for El, hands gently grabbing her, and he gives her a small shake as his fingers curl into skin left bare by the thin tank top she wears to sleep. He can’t help but notice, even in this moment, how soft and warm her skin is and Mike almost shakes his head.

_Seriously, Wheeler. **Now?** For fuck’s sake, you can’t manage to shelve your crush for one goddamn second? _

“El, hey, wake up,” Mike says, voice gentle yet firm. “It’s me, it’s Mike. You’re having a nightmare.”

El squirms in his grip, still caught in the throes of her nightmare, her head shaking back and forth on the pillow. And, just before Mike gives her another shake to try again and wake her up, El opens her eyes with a gasp. Mike lets go of El just in time for her to shoot straight up, blankets pooling around her waist, as she sits up so fast, he practically falls over trying to get away in time so she doesn’t headbutt him.

Mike doesn’t say anything, not wanting to startle El when she’s coming out of a nightmare, knowing how it goes transitioning from terror to reality. Instead, he just watches, taking in the way El trembles, her shoulders heaving with each frantic breath, fists clenched tight in her lap.

And the El looks over at him and even in the dim light, the pallor on her face is stark and startling. “Mike?”

The desperation in El’s voice is palpable and Mike swallows roughly against the painful squeeze his heart gives in response. “Yeah, it’s me,” Mike says, making sure to keep his voice soft and low, not wanting to add any more to El’s distress. “You ok?”

Silence hangs heavy between them for a long moment, punctuated only by the sound of El’s heavy, terrified breathing. And then, before Mike can even fully comprehend what’s happening, El lets out an anguished sob and _throws_ herself at him, face pressed against the front of his shoulder as tears overtake her.

Mike doesn’t even give it a second thought as he wraps his arms around El, holding her close as she comes out of her nightmare. One arm wraps around her waist, the warmth of her bleeding through the thin cotton of her tank top. But the other is wrapped around her so that his hand cups the back of her head, her hair soft beneath his palm as he holds her close. “Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok,” Mike all but whispers. He doesn’t need to ask what El dreamed about – it’s obvious she relives her childhood in her nightmares. So Mike’s content to hold her, lending her whatever strength he has.

In spite of himself, Mike finds his eyes slipping shut at the feel of holding El this close, even though it’s under less than ideal circumstances, given the tears that he feels falling on his bare skin. It's a feeling he's slowly getting used to, having her this close. Things have been changing, _shifting,_ between them over the past few weeks – _especially_ since his parents’ disastrous visit a couple weekends ago.

Lately, El’s been a lot more comfortable touching him – snuggling up with him on the couch when they’re watching TV, leaning against him and linking arms when they’re walking, a hand on his arm to get his attention that lingers maybe longer than is strictly friendly.

Mike hasn’t returned the favor to quite the same degree – he’s not exactly sure how much would be too much, so he’s erring on the side of restraint. But he’s certainly not pulling away whenever El decides to get, well, _handsy._

He probably should, he knows. There’s a fine line between indulgence and delusion, after all. But it feels so _nice_ to be close to someone – _especially_ a beautiful woman who Mike’s just about fallen madly in love with.

Being close to El is both thrilling and soothing, like being electrified and wrapped in a warm blanket all at the same time. Mike feels _whole_ whenever he’s near El and it’s a feeling that only gets stronger every day.

_I just wish I could figure out how she feels._

This is the only problem Mike has with how much El’s been touching him recently: he’s not sure what it means exactly. Sometimes, like that moment on the couch after the failed dinner with his parents where he _swore_ she was thinking about kissing him, Mike thinks that El might actually return his feelings, that she’s touching him more because she’s fallen for him, too.

But then at other times, like when he sees El lay her head on Will’s shoulder or curl up with Max on the couch when the whole Party hangs out, Mike’s not so sure. He’s realizing that El is just a pretty touchy-feely person in general with her friends and all the ways she’s been touching him could be nothing more than that: a way to express their friendship.

Mike hopes not – really, _really_ hopes not. He can’t be the only one imagining the electricity that flows between them when they touch. He can’t be the only one whose heart races whenever the other is near or loathes it whenever any distance is between them.

Mike knows he could always _ask_ El what the touches mean, if it means that she returns his feelings. Mike’s not brave enough to risk messing everything up. If he all but confesses his feelings and she _doesn’t_ return them? Mike doesn’t even want to think about how awkward that would make everything. Hell, it could even drive her away and Mike could lose one of the best friends he’s ever had.

So, no, Mike’s not going to say anything, not unless El brings it up _or_ he has something more concrete to pin his hopes on. And until, or if, either one of those happens, Mike’s going to enjoy whatever he gets from El.

Which, right now, is her holding onto him for dear life while he wraps his arms around her, holding her just as close, where he can revel in the feel of her, all soft and warm and _perfect._

Mike’s not sure how long they sit there – her crying soft, heart-wrenching tears, him murmuring quiet words of comfort, neither of them loosening the hold they have on each other – but Mike doesn’t really care. Not when he never wants to let her go.

The only awkward moment when Mike maybe wishes that wasn’t the case is when, after El’s breath hitches in particularly heartstring-tugging way, his chest tightening almost painfully, his instinctual response is to press a light kiss to the top of El’s head.

It hits him literally a moment later what he’s just done, but El doesn’t so much as twitch in response, so Mike figures she didn’t notice and his heart rate slows from light speed to merely supersonic.

_God, you **idiot** , _ Mike thinks, almost rolling his eyes at himself. Still, he can’t get rid of the memory of the softness of her hair against his lips, the sweet scent of her shampoo, and he knows it’s going to be a memory he’s never going to forget.

Eventually, El’s cries come to a stop and, for a bit, there’s just the sound of their breathing, the darkness surrounding them only amplifying the sound.

And, still, neither of them let go.

El sniffles and turns her head so that her ear is pressed against his shoulder, Mike’s hand rotating along with it, stubbornly affixed as it is to the back of her head since he's unwilling to let go of her. “Thank you.” The words are spoken just above a whisper, with a voice that is hoarse and a little stuffy. “And sorry. One of these days, I won’t cry all over you. Promise.”

Mike’s lips quirk up in a small smile and he breathes out a short laugh. “Don’t worry about it,” Mike says, just as quiet. “You ok?”

It’s El’s turn to let out a quiet laugh. “Is it wrong if the answer to that is ‘no’?”

“Wouldn’t blame you if it is,” Mike says. “Sounded like quite a nightmare.”

“Ugh, you have no idea,” El says, a shudder running through her. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, you were screaming,” Mike says. He almost doesn’t want to tell her, not wanting to make her feel bad, but he’s not about to start lying to her.

El lets out a pitiful groan. “Oh god, I’m _sorry,"_ she says and, for a moment, Mike thinks that she might pull back, but she doesn’t.

“Honestly, it’s not a problem,” Mike says. “I’m just glad I’m here to help.” He pauses, thinking. “I _am_ helping, right?”

That earns him a giggle. “Yeah, you’re helping,” El says before she sighs. “This is nice. I like hugs.”

The degree to which that is an understatement hits Mike like a punch to the solar plexus. “Hugs are nice,” he says, brain short-circuiting at just how _lame_ of a response that is.

There comes a point about a minute later where Mike figures it’s about to start getting really awkward if they don’t stop hugging and he slowly loosens his grip, pulling back just enough so that El gets the hint and untangles herself from the embrace as well. Mike looks down, watching as El wipes her face with the palms of her hands and he cringes as he sees how drawn and tired she looks. “You should try and get some more sleep,” Mike says.

El nods. “Yeah, I guess,” she says, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip as she eyes him. “Just….” She trails off, looking away, voice sounding small and lost.

Mike rushes to respond, hand shooting out to grab hers where it’s resting in her lap. “What is it?”

El looks back and, even in the near dark, Mike can see the beginnings of panic on her face. “Can you stay? Until I fall asleep. I just – when I close my eyes I can still _see_ and I-” El’s words grow thick and get caught in her throat, like panic gripping and choking her with its icy fingers.

Mike understands the desire to have someone nearby after a nightmare – how someone can feel both safer and braver in the company of friends. But still, what El’s asking him, to be with her until she falls asleep….

Pulse racing with a heart that’s just leapt up into his throat, Mike nods, feeling like he’s about to buzz out of his skin. “Yeah, ok,” he hears himself say with a voice that’s hoarse and croaking.

El nods in return, letting out a sigh of relief that has her shoulders slumping, it’s so palpable. “Thank you,” she breathes.

Mike doesn’t say anything in response – he just squeezes her hand, relishing the warmth of her beneath his touch, before he lets go. Neither of them say anything as they arrange themselves in El’s bed and Mike’s halfway to lying down, stretched out across the top of the covers, before he realizes that he never asked what El meant when she asked him to stay. Did she mean sitting next to her? Or is lying down ok?

El doesn’t say anything otherwise, so Mike assumes it must be ok as his head hits the pillow. He watches wordlessly as she snuggles up beneath her blankets before she scoots closer, curling up so that her forehead is pressed against his shoulder once more. The touch startles Mike just a little, but it still doesn’t stop his arm from automatically draping over her to keep her close, her form hidden beneath the thick comforter that separates them.

“Thank you,” El says once more, the words leaving her with a soft sigh that tickles the skin of his collarbone.

“I got you,” Mike says after swallowing roughly. “Go back to sleep.”

El’s half asleep already, because her only response is a muffled “Ok,” before her breathing begins to even out once more.

_I’ll just stay until she’s all the way asleep,_ Mike thinks, trying to calm the frenetic beat of his heart from how close El is, from how he’s lying in bed with her, _holding_ her, like it’s no big deal or something they do all the time. _I’ll go back to my room in just a couple of minutes. It’ll be fine. This is a totally normal thing for friends to do._

Resolve firmly in place, Mike lets himself just enjoy the moment of lying next to El, wishing he could see her face, but not wanting to disturb her from where she’s curled up against him.

But then it’s like he blinks and, when he opens his eyes, the sun is just beginning to peer over the horizon, the wan early light of day casting everything in shades of gray.

It takes Mike a second to realize that he fell asleep and, horrifyingly, that he’s _been_ asleep for at least a few hours. Even worse, it’s easily the best few hours of sleep he’s ever gotten in his entire life. Turns out sleeping next to El is just about the most rejuvenating thing Mike’s ever done and now all he can think of is the next time he can do is again.

This is bad – _really_ bad. He’s going to obsess over this for days and Mike just knows his body is going to crave this feeling for who knows _how_ long.

And then Mike looks over at El and his fate is well and truly sealed.

El’s fast asleep, curled up on her side facing him. She’s shifted away from him just a little, enough so Mike can stare openly at her.

It feels like a million emotions flood him as he stares at her, drinking in her soft beauty. In sleep, El’s face is at peace – lips gently parted, eyelashes fanning out delicately on the skin above her cheekbones, skin pink and warm. Her hair’s gone a little wild in sleep, framing her head like a tousled mass of soft waves, a couple of locks falling over her face.

Mike can’t _at all_ help himself as he reaches for her, heart thumping madly in his chest, so he can push her hair out of her face, gently tucking the strands behind her ear. The tip of his finger lightly brushes along the shell of her ear, but El’s fast asleep and doesn’t react at all, and Mike’s hand itches to slide all the way into her hair.

Mike know he shouldn’t be doing this – hell, he shouldn’t be in El’s bed _at all,_ but falling asleep in the first place was an accident. This isn’t why El asked him to stay and, besides, he’s just torturing himself now, teasing himself with what he can’t have.

The thought’s a sobering one and Mike sighs as he pulls his hand back. He takes one last look at El and slides out of bed as gently and quietly as he can, heart aching to stay right where he is.

He’s almost out of the room when he turns to glance back at her. El hasn’t moved an inch and the sight of her lying there is so inviting, Mike almost turns around and crawls back into bed with her.

But he manages to resist and smiles softly over at El’s sleeping form. “Sweet dreams,” Mike whispers before he shuts the door behind him as he makes his way back to his room.

Mike climbs back into his own bed, his sheets cold and uninviting compared to the warmth and security he just left behind. Heavy longing fills his heart and every inch on him _yearns_ to go back to El’s bed, to climb in next to her, to pull her towards him and hold on tight and _never_ let go. He just wants to keep her safe, to cherish and support her forever. He wants to laugh and explore the world and _be_ with her. It’s not just a physical attraction he feels for her and it’s not just a crush either.

No, as Mike settles back into bed, determined to catch a couple more hours of sleep, he has to face the truth that’s been building up for some time now.

He’s irrevocably and undeniably in love with El.

And now he’s _really_ screwed.

 

* * *

  
The morning after a nightmare is always one of the worst. El always wakes up feeling like she’s just done a marathon or something – weariness deep in her bones, limbs feeling like they’re made of lead, brain fuzzy and sluggish. Logically, El knows it’s the after-effects of the adrenaline in her system. But logic doesn’t help her when her alarm is blaring at her to get up so she can go to work and all she wants to do instead is throw her phone against the wall, turn over, and go right back to sleep for at least a few more hours.

El groans when her alarm goes off and she reaches blindly behind her for her phone to stop the horrible sound, rolling back over as she fumbles to turn her alarm off.

The sigh of relief El lets out once her phone is silent is almost embarrassing with how visceral it is, but no one else is there to hear it….

Which only makes her remember that, probably just a few hours ago, she _wasn’t_ alone – that someone else was in bed with her, if only for a little bit.

_Mike._

El’s stomach swoops wildly at the memories that rush in, warm tingles spreading across her skin in response and burning out the lingering exhaustion from her nightmare. Her lips curl up in a soft smile and El sighs, the sound way more lovesick than just a bit ago. She can’t help it, though, as she remembers Mike holding her, letting her cry as she recovered from her nightmare, whispering comforting words and hugging her tight.

And then, he _stayed_ while she fell back asleep, lying next her as he let her curl up in his embrace once more, his arm warm and solid as he wrapped it around her and held her close. It was the safest El’s ever felt in her entire life and she wants _so badly_ to have Mike hold her like that again, to feel that safe and warm and _cared for._

_Heading into dangerous territory there, Hopper._ El shakes her head at the thought and knows it’s already too late. Her heart has taken the idea and run with it, fantasies spinning up wildly in her mind. _God,_ it’s all too easy to imagine – evenings in bed, his arms around her, her hands resting gently on his chest as they trade soft kisses that inevitably turn into _more,_ falling asleep wrapped up in each other, waking up to the sight of him….

El’s heart _squeezes_ in her chest, and a giggle bubbles up in her chest that she just barely manages to hold back. _Way too early to start acting like a lovesick teenager._ El still can’t hold back the smile that just grows wider or the butterflies that explode inside of her – some things are just beyond her control.

El opens her eyes and looks across to where Mike was laying just a few short hours ago, her hand following her gaze to land on the other pillow. How long did he stay? What was he thinking? Did he like holding her as much as she did?

El finds herself grabbing the pillow and pulling it towards her, hugging it close to her chest so she can bury her face in the pillowcase. She likes to imagine that there’s some trace of him on the fabric and she _swears_ she can smell the faintest, lingering hints of his shampoo on the fabric, making her think Mike might have been with her for longer than it took for her to fall back asleep.

It’s a nice dream, the thought of Mike staying, holding her as she slept, maybe even falling asleep himself. But El’s well aware that dreams aren’t real, even though it pains her to remember, and it’s too dangerous to let herself fall down that rabbit hole. Because she might never find her way out.

Besides, she needs to get to work eventually and she doesn’t really have time to linger in bed over daydreams that will probably _never_ become reality.

So, with a sigh, El lets go of the pillow and gets out of bed so she can get ready to face the rest of the day. Exhaustion pulls at her as she makes her way to the door and El already can’t wait for work to be over. _Thank god it’s Friday._

On her way to the bathroom, El pauses in the hallway and glances over at Mike’s closed bedroom door. She wonders, for a brief moment, what time he went back to bed (hell, she’s not even sure _when_ she woke up from her nightmare – it could have only been a couple hours ago), if he’s still asleep. She hopes she didn’t disturb his sleep _too_ much and guilt pools heavy in her stomach at the thought of inconveniencing him. Suddenly, El wants to find a way to make it up to him and El lets the thought of that consume her as she showers, wondering what she can do to show her gratitude.

It hits her, as she dresses for work, dressing down a little in nice jeans and a sweater since it’s Friday, that she can make him breakfast. _Everyone loves breakfast,_ she thinks with a smile as she heads out to the kitchen.

Mike’s not a morning person and he’s rarely, if ever, awake for when El makes herself breakfast. So she doesn’t think twice about the noise she makes as she bustles around the kitchen – the whir of the coffee grinder, the metallic whisper of a whisk in a metal mixing bowl, the light clang of pans on the stove. El glances behind her shoulder a couple of times to see if Mike’s made his way out of bed yet. But, if he’s awake, he’s holed himself up in his room, so El’s by herself as she cooks.

One of the routines they’ve fallen into is that El, who makes coffee for herself every morning, will also make extra for Mike and pour it in a thermos so it’s still warm by the time he gets up. Today’s no different in that regard, but there is a note left behind that El writes while she eats her breakfast. “Thank you for last night,” it reads. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me. And, to apologize for rudely waking you up, I made you breakfast – pancakes and a frittata. It’s on a plate in the oven so all you have to do is reheat it and it should be fine. Let me know if it’s not so I can have a second try at repaying the favor of your support with food. See you when I get home tonight! ~El.”

El pins the note down beneath the thermos of coffee so Mike can’t miss it and, running only a few minutes behind, gathers her things before rushing out the door.

Work that day is a little slow – Fridays are the days to catch up on paperwork – and, by lunch time, El is _itching_ to get home.

Or, at least, not be in the office anymore.

El’s eating her lunch outside, enjoying the very last of the decent weather before fall slides into winter, when her phone buzzes with an incoming text. El wipes her hands off on her napkin before she grabs her phone out of her purse to see who texted her, her face lighting up in a smile when she sees Max’s name flash across her screen.

_hey, i’m dying for a drink after work. wanna do happy hour with me?_ Max works closer to downtown, but still only about 15 minutes away, at a marketing firm where she does client consulting, and sometimes they get together after work to enjoy discounted drinks and half-off appetizers, and bitch about their day.

El smiles as she responds. _you know it. did we want to go to the usual or try somewhere new?_

_the usual, plz._

_the usual it is, then. meet you at 5._

_k._

Still grinning, El puts her phone away and finishes eating her lunch, excited anticipation running through her veins that she has plans after work.

El’s never really had close female friends before Max and she’s discovering she _really_ likes it. It probably helps that Max isn’t exactly a typical girl – brash and opinionated and a little crude, quick with undercutting sarcasm and quippy one-liners, and just as much of a nerd as the rest of the Party, even though it’s not as obvious. It’s almost scary how quick the friendship between the two women grew and El loves knowing that she has as female friend to roll eyes with over the boys’ antics...or to join her in flirting with the bartender so they can get extra drinks or food on the house.

But, really, what El loves about having Max for a friend is having someone close who she can have deep, meaningful conversations with about anything at all, especially things that guys tend to not like talking about.

With plans made, the afternoon goes by in an anticipatory blur and El’s able to clock out a little after 4:30 when it’s apparent that most everyone else has cut out early. By 5, El’s at the bar and has ordered a couple of appetizers and drinks for the soon-to-arrive Max.

It hits El while she’s waiting that she hasn’t told Mike about her plans, so she uses the opportunity to shoot him a quick text message. It hasn’t escaped her, either, that except for the note she left him, they haven’t talked all day and El’s not sure what to make of that. But she shelves the thought away for a different time as she texts.

_Hey, made last minute hh plans with max._

Mike’s reply comes seconds later. _cool. have fun talking about girly things. try not to gossip about the rest of us too much behind our backs, ok?_

El shakes her head as she lets out a soft giggle. _we don’t talk about you guys...much._

That earns El an eye roll emoji before the rest of Mike’s response comes in. _great that makes me feel so much better. hey, tho speaking of the party, maybe doing dinner with everyone later. you in?_

_yep! lmk where and when._

_will do. see you later,_ is what El thinks is going to be the end of the conversation. But then, just as El’s in the middle of putting her phone down, she gets another text from Mike. _thanks for breakfast, btw. you really didn’t have to, but it was delicious._

El _knows_ she’s smiling like a lovesick teenager, but she absolutely doesn’t care as she replies. _yes i did and i’m glad you liked it. it was the least i could do after your services last night._

El realizes right after she hits send just how wrong someone could misinterpret this conversation and she feels her face begin to heat up in a blush…

…Which only intensifies when she gets Mike’s response. _gee, way to make me sound like a prostitute._ El chokes on a breath as Mike follows up with a winking face emoji. Before she can stop herself, her thoughts race down the path Mike’s comment opened up and she finds herself imagining how different last night could have gone if there were a lot less comforting...and a lot more _comforting._

El’s fingers are typing out a response before she’s fully aware of what she’s saying, half of her brain still wrapped up in the sudden trip to Fantasy Land. _high class, if you are. only fancy prostitutes get pancakes the next morning._

_be still my heart, she thinks i’m high class._ That sets off a flurry of giggles that El has a hard time keeping in check, smiling so wide, it must be visible from space.

“What’s so funny, Giggle Queen?”

Startled. El looks up to see Max setting her things down on a nearby chair. El hurries to put her phone away, face heating up almost like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

_Like flirting with your very handsome, very off limits roommate?_ The thought only makes her blush worse and El practically withers under the knowing gaze Max is throwing her way as she sits down.

But, luckily for El, Max doesn’t say anything…at least, not for the moment. El knows her luck won’t hold for the rest of the night, but it’s nice to pretend it will if only for a little while. “Hey, you made it!” El says, the words a bit too bright and high pitched. “I ordered you an Old Fashioned.” El slides the drink over to Max. “And apps should be on their way in a sec.”

“El, you’re a god-send,” Max says with a relieved sigh. “Honestly, I’m not surprised Mike’s completely gone for you.”

Max is too busy taking a sip of her drink to see the glare El’s giving her, but that’s not stopping her from glaring anyway. Looks like that luck was destined to fail her sooner rather than later. “Max, _please._ ” El’s aware that she’s whining, but she doesn’t care. After last night, her feelings for Mike are way too close to the surface for comfort and El’s not sure if she’s going to be able to keep them hidden from Max in this state. Especially not if Max pushes like she _always_ does.

A smirk crosses Max’s lips as she lets out a small huffed breath. “You know. I wouldn’t tease you about Mike if you didn’t react like that. You’re so transparent, Hopper. It’s almost pathetic, really.” Max takes another sip of her drink. “You should just do us both a favor and admit that Wheeler makes you all weak in the knees and that you want to have all of his little nerd babies so we can stop dancing around it.”

Like El knew, given the mood she’s in, it takes barely any teasing from Max to push her over the edge. She lets out a long-suffering groan and slumps in her seat, all petulant teenager. “Ugh, _fine._ I like him, _really_ like him. Ok? Happy now?” El punctuates her declaration with a large gulp of her margarita, the alcohol burning a path down her throat with salt and citrus in its wake as she all but slams her glass down on the table.

Max’s smirk turns into a triumphant, shit-eating grin and she leans back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. “ _Finally._ Thought I was gonna have to get you pissed drunk and tape your drunken love confession.”

El eyes Max, chewing on her lower lip just a little. “You wouldn’t _really._ ”

Max’s grin intensifies. “You’ll never know, now will you?”

El pouts. “I hate you. I take back everything I said about us being friends.”

“Yeah, that’s a crock of shit.” Max gives her a flat look, like she can see right through El – and maybe she _can._ El’s starting to wonder just how transparent she is.

But before El can think on it too deeply, a pair of arms with appetizers in each hand comes into her field of view. “Spinach dip and a Mediterranean flatbread pizza, as ordered.”

Both El and Max look up at the strikingly handsome face of their bartender, Josh, and Max gives him a winning smile, almost batting her eyelashes at him coquettishly. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an angel?” Max says, amping up the flirt to almost obscene levels.

Josh just gives them a knowing look. “You ladies let me know if you need anything else.”

“Oh, count on it,” Max says with a wink while El rolls her eyes.

El waits until Josh is out of earshot before she gives Max a look. “Jesus Christ, Max, could you flirt any harder?”

Max returns El’s look with one of smug satisfaction. “Just showing you how it’s done, Hopper. Take notes so you can apply the same, irresistible force to Wheeler. Just bat those pretty brown eyes of yours in his direction and smile and he’ll fall at your feet. Guaranteed.”

El halts part-way to scooping some spinach dip onto a chip, frowning a little as she gives Max a flat look. “He doesn’t like me like that. I don’t know why you keep saying he does.”  El wants to believe, though. She does _so badly,_ it almost robs her of coherent thought. But El’s not brave enough to grab that hope when there’s a good likelihood she’ll be horribly disappointed. No, better to shield her heart in order to protect it.

“Oh _please,_ ” Max says with a snort. “I’ve known Mike for just about 10 years not and I’ve _never_ seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Not even his previous girlfriends.”

El’s heart twists at the thought of Mike dating someone else (though she logically knows he must have; he’s too nice and too good looking to _not_ have) and, despite all her best efforts, El finds herself latching on to Max’s words. Hope springs eternal in her heart, the _traitor._ “You really think so?”

“I _know_ so.” There must have been something in El’s voice just a second ago, because the look on Max’s face softens and she reaches over to lay a comforting hand on El’s arm. “Hey, I know it must be weird since he’s your roommate and it could all explode in your face if it goes wrong. But I’ve seen the way you two look at each other and if I thought it was going to go wrong, I wouldn’t push you like this. I think the two of you would be _amazing_ together and, I’ll kill you if you _ever_ tell Mike this, I just want both of you to be happy. So, I _promise,_ I’m not making any of this up. I wouldn’t lie to you, I swear.”

El latches on to Max’s words like they’re a lifeline, her heart pounding in her chest as she lets hope spread like wildfire in her veins. But still, there’s an insidious thread of doubt that runs undercurrent, an insidious voice that whispers in the back of her mind. _He could never love someone like you. You’re just going to get your heart broken in the end._

“If you say so,” is what El says in response, trying desperately to box in the hope that makes her feel all light and floaty while still trying to luxuriate in the sensation.

“I do,” Max says, voice triumphant. “So, you should totally do something about this and put the rest of us out of our misery. There’s only so much longer we can watch the two of you make googly eyes at each other before we do something drastic like lock you in a closet or something.”

The absurdity of the statement cuts through the emotions that are swirling in her system. “Wow, Max. Very high school of you.”

Max shrugs. “Hey, don’t knock the classics. They get _results._ ” She lets out a laugh. “Anyway, you look like you’re gonna die if we talk about this any more, so let’s just eat our appetizers and bitch about work, shall we?”

El gives Max a grateful smile. “Sounds good to me! So, what horrible shit happened at work today?”

Max smiles. “I’m _so_ glad you asked….”

 

* * *

  
The evening goes pretty much how El expects it to. She and Max each have a couple of drinks while they eat their happy hour appetizers and then they join the rest of the Party for dinner at an All-You-Can-Eat sushi place where there are sake bombs and countless tiny plates of sushi off those little boats and Dustin and Lucas trying to out-eat each other while everyone else watches.

All in all, it’s a great night filled with easy conversation and even easier laughter. It’s the kind of night out with friends El always dreamed of having and she’s so grateful to have this wonderful group of people in her life.

But the entire night, El can’t seem to let go of what Max said about Mike earlier – how he’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at her, that he feels for her the same way she does for him.

El sits next to Mike at dinner and, the entire time, she’s hyper-aware of his presence by her side – the warmth of his arm against her shoulder, the sound of his laugh at Lucas and Dustin’s antics, the way he fumbles a bit with the chopsticks as he eats...the small smile he gives her occasionally whenever they look at her, the way she sometimes catches him staring at her out of the corner of his eye.

To be fair, El’s doing the exact same thing, eyes drawn to him despite everything else that’s going on around them. But it’s nice to know that he seems to be having an equally hard time _not_ looking at her. El’s not entirely sure what it means. Does it means he likes her like she likes him? Or is he just worried about her after last night? Max’s words may resonate loudly in her head, but El still can’t bring herself to believe in them all the way, can’t let go of the doubts that linger and cling tight with insidious claws.

Still, El manages to keep her thoughts contained to the back of her mind and lets herself get mostly caught up in just spending time with her friends….

Until the end of the night, that is, when everyone separates to go their own way home. Mike hitched a ride with Dustin and Megan and, since El drove herself, the two of them head off to her car where it’s parked a couple of blocks away after saying goodbye to everyone else. And, for the first time since she and Mike were in her room, him helping her through the aftermath of her nightmare, they’re _alone._

“I swear, Megan and Max are going to have to roll Dustin and Lucas through the front door,” Mike says, a laugh underpinning each word.

“God, I can’t believe how much they _ate_ ,” El says with a giggle. “I hope Dustin’s victory was worth all the pain he’s in right now.”

“It’s _never_ worth it,” Mike says.

El smiles over at him. “You don’t strike me as the type of guy who gets caught up in stupid displays of masculinity. Which is _exactly_ what that competition between Lucas and Dustin was.”

Mike shrugs. “It’s not worth it, really. Besides, odds are I’d lose and I really don’t want to put myself through that kind of embarrassment.”

“Hmm, the evolved male makes an excellent point only to reveal a second later the way he struggles against societal masculinity. _Fascinating,_ ” El teases, taking on the smooth professionalism of a nature documentary narrator.

Only, she can’t hold it as Mike rolls his eyes, which just makes her break character when she giggles in response. “Hey, I don’t deserve to be called out like this.”

“Sorry not sorry!” El says in a sing-song voice, grinning all the while.

Mike nudges her with his elbow, throwing her off-balance just a bit. “God, why are we friends?”

Laughing, El links her arm with Mike’s, exuberant happiness lighting her from within. “Because I’m adorable and perfect, _duh._ ”

The sound that leaves Mike is somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “Right, of course. How could I forget?”

“Just don’t do it again and we’ll pretend like this transgression never happened,” El says with faux primness.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mike says, the sound of his laughter mixing like magic with El’s higher pitched giggles.

The laughter trails off into comfortable silence as they walk the rest of the way to her car. El likes that she and Mike can just exist in companionable silence and she relishes the feel of his arm tucked against hers. She just likes being _close_ to him _(ideally, she’d be even closer – **much** closer in a way that makes her blush if she thinks too much about it but she’ll take what she can get). _ Being close to Mike makes her feel all warm and gooey inside and she’s glad Mike’s comfortable enough around her that he lets her essentially snuggle up with him, even if it is just friendly.

It’s only once they’re in her car when it fully hits El that the two of them are alone...and that, except for a short note, El hasn’t really, _properly_ thanked Mike for what he did last night. Not like he deserves. So that needs to be fixed, like, _right now._

El has her car keys in one hand, ready to slip them into the ignition, when she turns to look over at Mike, words of gratitude building on her lips. But the sight of him sitting so close to her, looking devastatingly handsome in the dim light, causes her breath to catch in her throat. For a moment, all El can do is stare at Mike, greedy eyes tracing the sweep of his cheekbones, the lines of his jaw and neck, the gentle glow of his skin in the faint light from the outside street lights.

Mike looks deep and mysterious, half cast in shadows as he is, and El’s heart begins to race furiously in her chest. _God,_ she wants so badly to explore that mysteriousness, that _intensity,_ and just the thought of it makes her stomach feel all light and swooping, filling with butterflies.

Thankfully, Mike is too busy buckling his seatbelt to notice that she’s staring at him and El manages to shake herself out of it a couple of breaths later. Her heart’s still pounding furiously, though, as she reaches for him, and El realizes that her heart is a lost cause when it comes to Mike. “Hey,” she says as her hand lands on his forearm. Her voice sounds breathy and a tad overwhelmed (which is a very good description of how she’s _actually_ feeling) and El almost cringes at how _girlish_ she sounds.

Mike looks up, eyes bright and concerned. “Everything ok?” he asks as he clicks his seatbelt into the buckle and lets the strap settle against his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just-” She cuts off, pausing for a second as she looks away. She pulls her lower lip gently between her teeth, a nervous flutter pulsing beneath her skin. But she looks back a second later, determined to push through. “I know I already thanked you with that note I left you, but I just wanted to say, again, _thank you_ for last night. I honestly can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Most people wouldn’t have done what you did and I, well... I guess I’m just not used to people staying to help.”

There’s a moment where Mike just looks at her, gaze inscrutable, and El’s heart feels like it’s going to burst with longing. And then Mike smiles, his hand coming up to cover hers where she’s still touching him, and El almost forgets how to breathe. “Of course I stayed. I mean, I’d do just about anything for you.” Mike’s eyes widen and he looks away, clearly embarrassed. All the while, El’s heart has leapt up into her throat and she couldn’t speak right now to save her life as she stares back at Mike, desperate for him to continue. “You’re one of my best friends,” Mike continues, voice a little rougher than it was moments ago.

El sucks in a shaky breath. “You mean that?”

“I’ve never meant anything more. I will _always_ be there for you, El. All you ever have to do is ask,” Mike says, hand still covering hers, their gazes locked across the short distance that separates them in the cab of her car.

El feels like she’s going to float away, unwilling to look at anything other than _him._ The look in Mike’s eyes is warm, his gaze sparkling in the low light that surrounds them. The way he’s looking at her fills her with the most delicious tingles, her skin electrified as hope beats wildly in her heart, crowding out just about everything else. His mouth is pulled up in a gentle smile that has El _craving_ to lean forward and touch her lips to his, even if just to see what it’s like. If she were braver, she’d do just that, lean over the center console and press her lips against his, capture that gentle smile with a fervent kiss that would leave no doubt for how she feels about him.

_God, she loves him._

The thought, clear and crystalline, hits her like a shock to her entire system and El gulps. Oh god, she does, doesn’t she? This isn’t just a crush or a very intense attraction. She’s _in love_ with him, with his sweet smiles and adorable laugh and stupid nerdy jokes and his sparkling intelligence and the way he treats her like she’s _special,_ like she’s worth knowing.

Holy shit, how long has this been going on? Oh god, this is _so_ inappropriate. He’s just her friend, her _roommate,_ and no matter what Max says, there’s still nothing that El can point to that really tells her otherwise.

(He may find her physically attractive – she’s not blind, she’s seen him checking her out – but apparently, so do many other men given the gross comments and catcalling she receives when walking by herself in public, so Mike thinking she’s physically attractive has nothing to do with anything besides the fact that he’s a _man._ )

Panic begins to crest inside of her at the sudden revelation, fed by both Mike’s proximity and the doubts that still swirl deep in her soul. He’s just _so close_ and she’s so unprepared for this. God, what is she going to do? How is she going to be around him _every day?_ How is she supposed to hide how she feels?

El feels _way too_ exposed right now, her emotions out there for anyone, for _Mike_ to see, her heart painfully worn on her sleeve. She _can’t_ with this right now. No, she needs a little breathing space, some room to get her bearings, to figure out how she’s supposed to handle all of this.

Still, Mike just said what is a very heart-felt, _friendly_ confession and El needs to respond, to let him know that she at least feels the same about him.

_At least._ God, that’s an understatement.

El smiles against the panic that flutters in her heart and thrums in her veins. She doesn’t pull her hand away, though she very much wants to so she can _breathe_ – he’s just too overwhelming and El’s afraid she’s going to do something stupid in about 15 seconds. “You’re one of my best friends, too,” she says, voice hushed and thick with emotion. “Probably my _best_ friend, if we’re being honest here.” It’s not _untrue_ ….it’s just not the whole truth. “And if you need anything, _anything,_ I’m here for you, too.”

The smile on Mike’s face widens, turning a bit boyish with an undercurrent of excitement and, _god,_ it’s just the cutest thing El’s ever seen. “Good, I’m glad we clarified that.” He squeezes her hand. “And, just so you know, you’ll never bother me by waking me up when you’re having a nightmare. Hell, you can always wake me up after a bad dream just to talk it out, yeah? Or for anything. I don’t mind.”

The sentiment and offer make El’s heart do a fluttery pitter-patter in her chest and she bites the inside of her cheek to really keep herself from just laying one on him. He’s just too sweet and adorable and _perfect._

_Mike Wheeler should come with a warning label. “Caution: may inspire irrational desire to kiss senseless.”_

Still, El can’t stop the coquettish giggle that escapes her and she wishes she could just _not_ sound like the most lovesick teenage girl on the face of the planet. But, apparently, Mike Wheeler’s affect on her heart and soul has no limits and listens to no reason. “Thank you. You too, by the way. Wake me up, anytime, if you need something.”

Mike’s smile turns into a grin. “Even if it’s to bounce my horrible ‘Firefly’ conspiracy theories off of you at 2 in the morning?”

El rolls her eyes and takes her hand away so she can start the car. “ _Fine,_ if you have to, I _suppose_ that’d be ok.”

Mike chuckles. “Aww, you really _do_ like me. You’re such a good friend, El.”

A friend, right. A friend who she’d like to kiss and never, _ever_ stop, a friend who she’s fallen madly in love with.

_Yeah, such a good friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm thinking another 1-2 chapters at this point? It really all depends on how *~*wordy*~* I get (so, place your bets on 2 chapters, ladies and gents. your odds are good for that one.) 
> 
> (am i poking fun at myself? you bet your ass i am. i mean, if i don't, _then who will?_ )


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, um, I totally didn't mean for this to take almost three weeks. But I've been busy and distracted and sick, so...yeah.
> 
> But, to make it up to you, this chapter is 22k words long. I just don't know when to stop, apparently.
> 
> (BTW, I'm calling it; there's one more chapter after this. Because there's only so much longer I can torture y'all by dragging this out.
> 
> You'll see what I mean.)

It’s scary, really, just how _quickly_ El wraps her head around the face that she’s madly in love with Mike.

The scary part isn’t the actual realization that she’s in love with him – well, it’s a _little_ scary, especially considering the newly discovered depth of her feelings. But at the end of the day, being in love like this is _beautiful._ Her heart feels light and warm, like gravity has no hold on her, and her stomach fills with the most amazing flurry of butterflies every time she so much as _looks_ at Mike, never mind getting to talk with him or touch him or just _be_ with him.

No, what scares El is just how easy it’s been to delude herself for what’s approaching months now. These feelings have been a near constant companion since at least the beginning of August and the fact that it took her this long to figure it out really doesn’t say much for her self-awareness. But, hey, as least she knows now, no matter how long it took for her to get here. The blinders are off now and there’s no turning back.

But it leads to another thing that is also really scary: the fact that El has _no idea_ what she’s going to do about this. It’s all so tangled up. Mike’s her friend _and_ her roommate. If she goes to him and confesses that she has feelings for him and he _doesn’t_ return them, there’s a whole host of horrible things that El _knows_ will happen.

First, El will have to find somewhere else to live – she just knows she wouldn’t be able to live with the horrible awkwardness that would come between them, filling the apartment like a third, unwanted roommate. And El really doesn’t want to have to move out. She _likes_ this apartment, she loves living with Mike, and the idea of having to find a new place to live almost makes her want to break out into hives.

But, worse, on top of maybe having to find somewhere else to live, El could possibly also lose Mike as a friend if her feelings are unrequited. And that is _completely_ unacceptable. Just the thought of not having Mike as a friend anymore makes El want to cry. Yes, she wants to be with him, wants to be _way_ more than friends. She wants this more than just about anything she’s ever wanted in her entire life. But she’s not willing to risk what she has with him now if he doesn’t feel the same, no matter _what_ Max says otherwise.

It’s not that El thinks Max is lying – Max has known Mike for a literal decade so she should be able to tell when her friend has feelings for someone.

What it comes down to is that El is a big, fat coward when it comes to exposing her heart. And if she’s going to step out on that ledge, she needs something a little more concrete to pin her hopes on, something more than faith and assurances to tell the part of her that is a cowardly little scaredy cat to sit down and shut up.

El really just needs _something,_ some sort of proof. Not much – just a sign, a small hint. God, _anything,_ really.

El knows she has ample opportunity to test the waters, to take the tiniest of baby steps forward without endangering her heart. She’s pretty sure she knows how to be subtle with asking Mike just the right questions or being strategic with what she says to him or how she touches him.

_(hell, she’s almost hoping she’ll accidentally trip and fall right into his arms…or, even better, right onto his lips. it’s embarrassing just how much time she spends trying to figure out a way to make that happen before she chides herself for acting like a silly teenage girl. still doesn’t stop her from thinking about it, though.)_

It’s just too bad, really, that, just as El resolves to do this, Mike suddenly gets _really_ busy with school. He gets caught up with midterms, both his _and_ his students, and a massive milestone for his thesis and not enough time for any of them. So, as Mike gets more and more frazzled and stressed as the days go by, El hangs back, content to just be Mike’s friend and supporting him in however she can.

Oddly enough, this is what leads things to start to change.

 _This_ is where things start to get... _interesting._

 

* * *

  
It’s a few weeks after what El has taken to calling “the nightmare incident”, a Wednesday night in the beginning of November.

Mike’s on campus until later, so El has the apartment to herself as the clock nears 8pm. She’s already eaten dinner, leaving some set aside for Mike for whenever he gets home.

Now, she’s just curled up on the couch, all but wrapped around a large throw pillow as she watches “The Princess Bride”, trying to block out what happened today.

It was...not the greatest day at work. For the most part, as the newbie at work, the cases El handles by herself are pretty simple. None of them are happy, no, but they’re simple – kids staying in foster care for a few days while the courts work through custody disputes, checking up on single parents who’ve had issues in the past – stuff like that.

But she’s still shadowing some of the more senior social workers as they work the more delicate cases, the more traumatic ones. Like today’s where El tagged along to the police station to pick up a little boy whose parents had been horribly abusive. Locking him in what is essentially a cage, starving him, beating him…. The pictures she’d seen and the sight of the little boy, too small for his age, eyes wary and untrusting and, _god,_ El hadn’t been able to keep herself from sympathizing, from remembering what that was like.

Somehow, she’d held it together throughout the rest of the day at work, but when she got home, El made it as far as the couch she’s sitting on now before the tears hit and she spent almost 15 minutes sobbing into her hands, elbows perched on her knees, rocking back and forth just a little in a soothing rhythm. The entire time, she’d wished Mike was with her, that she could have one of his amazing hugs, with him telling her that everything will be ok and her believing it because he would _never_ lie to her. Hell, she’d almost reached for her phone to call him before she stopped herself, remembering that he had a meeting with his advisor about his latest thesis proposal draft.

So, still sulking a bit once her tears had mostly dried up, El did the next best thing: she ordered a large, overloaded pizza, opened a bottle of wine, and put on “The Princess Bride” after changing into her comfiest PJs.

It helps, a little – the food is good, the wine helps her feel floaty, and her favorite movie always makes her laugh and giggle and sigh. So by the time Mike gets home a little before 8, El’s not as sad as she was. Now, she’s mostly just tired.

But she perks up when she hears the front door open, her heart singing in her chest at the knowledge that _Mike’s home._ El looks away from the movie in time to see Mike walk through the front door, her hand blindly reaching out for the remote so she can hit pause.

El gets a good look at Mike and she cringes. Mike’s still heart-racingly handsome as always, with his strong jaw and delicate cheekbones and full lips and dark eyes that she just wants to fall into and never find her way out.

No, what makes El cringe is just how _tired_ Mike looks. The lines of his face are drawn tight, his skin pale and a little sickly, and there are dark bags under his eyes that speak to how much he’s been burning the candle at both ends. El’s heart squeezes in sympathy. “Hey, you’re back. Welcome home,” El says, soft and gentle as she smiles over at him.

Mike looks over at her, a small smile pulling up at the corner of his lips, and the sight of that smile, however small, makes El’s heart flutter dangerously. “Hey, please tell me there’s dinner.” If El’s not mistaken, Mike’s shoulders relax just a tad, like being home is a balm for his soul.

The smile on El’s face just widens. “Yeah, I ordered pizza. I put some in the oven so you can warm it up if you want.” El watches as Mike drops his messenger bag down by the front door before he kicks off his shoes. “Long day?” she asks as he shuffles over to the couch, exhaustion evident in every step.

Mike doesn’t so much sit down as _falls_ down on to the couch, sitting half on each of the two cushions on the other end from where El’s curled up. His head falls back to rest on the back cushion and he lets out a sigh that is halfway to a whimper as his eyes slide shut. “God, _that’s_ an understatement. I just want this day to be over already.”

There’s an undercurrent of tension in Mike’s voice and El cringes again. “I take it your meeting with your advisor didn’t go so well.”

That elicits an _actual_ whimper and Mike half slides, half falls over so that his upper body is laying on the couch. Only, much to El’s delighted surprise, Mike’s so tall that his head lands on her leg and, suddenly, he’s using her thigh as a pillow. “God, it was _horrible,_ ” Mike says. “I just wish he would tell me what he _wants_ so I can just give him _that_ instead of all this back-and-forth, ‘well, Michael, what do _you_ think is a good line of research to follow?’ It’s like he wants me to read his mind. It’s so frustrating.”

El isn’t even thinking as her hand comes down to rest on his shoulder, her thumb gently moving back and forth in a soothing caress. “Hey, you’ll figure it out, I know it.” She squeezes his shoulder and glances over at the kitchen. “You should probably go eat something, yeah?”

Mike heaves a sigh and, if anything, seems to burrow deeper, his head resting heavier on her thigh as his legs curl up on the couch. “In a minute, this is nice.” There’s a moment, a bit of silence, before Mike speaks again. “‘The Princess Bride’? Everything ok?”

It’s El’s turn to sigh and she lets her hand go still where it’s resting on Mike. “Just case work stuff. Helped on a bad one today.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Mike asks, turning a bit so he can look up at her, brows furrowed in concern despite the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face.

With how close he is, it’s so very easy for El to see the splash of freckles across Mike’s nose and cheeks and she has to stop herself from running her finger across his skin and trace the patterns she sees in them. It’s about the hardest thing she’s ever done, keeping her hands where they are. “No, that’s ok,” she says, warmth filling her at just how considerate Mike is. Even when he’s stressed and busy, Mike _always_ seems to make an effort to be there for her.

Honestly, it always makes El fall that much more in love with him every time he does it.

“Thank you, though,” she continues after sucking in a breath that almost hitches in her throat.

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where I am,” Mike says with a gentle smile.

El giggles, feeling so much better than she did 10 minutes ago. Mike’s presence is a balm for her soul, warming her from the inside out. “Yeah, using my lap as a pillow.”

“Hey, not my fault you’re comfy,” Mike grumbles as he turns back to look at the TV screen. “Just unpause the movie.”

The perfect response leaps into the forefront of her mind and El bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling like a lunatic. “As you wish.”

Mike immediately groans at El’s cheesy rejoinder. “Oh my god, I left myself wide open for that one.”

“Shh,” El says as she unpauses the movie. “They’re storming the castle.”

“I can see that,” Mike says, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the movie playing.

El flicks Mike’s ear. “Hush or I’ll move and you’ll lose your pillow.”

“Ok, _ok,_ sorry.”

They fall silent as they watch the rest of the movie, El pressed into the corner of the couch while Mike lays with his head on her thigh, curled up practically in the fetal position. El never wants this to end. She’s warm and comfy and Mike’s _so close,_ the weight of his head on her leg both comforting and thrilling. It’s all so domestic and intimate, _homey_ in the best way possible. Whenever El envisions spending a night in with someone she loves, it’s almost _exactly_ like this, two people who trust each other spending time just _being_ together.

El just always wants this with Mike. She wants it so bad she can practically taste it and this teaser does nothing to rein in the frantic hope lives inside of her, growing with every passing moment. She tries her best to ignore it, though, as she watches the end of her favorite movie.

But she’s only half paying attention, hyper focused on Mike’s head on her leg, his hand curled up under her knee, the way he occasionally nuzzles her with his cheek as he shifts and readjusts. Her hand is still on his shoulder, but her grip’s gone soft, her fingers draping lightly over the curve of bone and muscle, thumb occasionally tapping on his back. Mike’s warm beneath her touch and, especially as the temperatures only seem to get colder, El finds herself wanting to curl up completely in that warmth, to be surrounded by him so thoroughly that all she knows is _him._

Someday, maybe, _hopefully,_ that’ll be the case. But that day is not today, unfortunately, and El feels the knowledge of that pull down on her heart like a sad anchor.

Neither Mike or El say anything as they watch the last half hour of “The Princess Bride” together, both of them content to spend time together in silence, and it’s only once the credits are rolling that El decides to speak again. “Hey, you should probably go eat and then go to bed, yeah?”

Only, there’s no response from Mike.

Curious and confused, El stops the movie and leans over so she can see Mike’s face in profile from where his head is still pillowed in her thigh. And, immediately, El’s confusion fades away as she takes in the sight of Mike’s closed eyes and relaxed face, still and repose. Her heart melts in an instant and El doesn’t even try to hold back the soft sigh that escapes from her lips at the sleeping man curled up next to her.

Mike’s _beautiful_ in sleep, all the pressures of the day left behind, his face peaceful and content. He looks so much younger, like life hasn’t had a chance to dig in with harsh claws yet, and he’s so strikingly handsome, it makes El’s heart flip as it skips a couple of beats. This time, she doesn’t stop herself as she reaches for him and El watches as her fingers slip gently into Mike’s hair. His hair is soft where it slides between her fingers, the dark locks contrasting so nicely with the light tan if her skin.

El knows she shouldn’t be doing this – it’s dangerous to make this kind of thing a habit since it just makes her heart get even more attached and, besides, it’s not like Mike gave her permission or anything – but she can’t bring herself to stop. Especially not after the little pleased noise that escapes from Mike when she drags her fingertips across his scalp in a gentle massage. The sound, content and relaxed, pierces her straight in the heart and El feels her throat constrict almost painfully, overwhelmed with the sheer, unadulterated love she feels for the man in front of her.

But, beneath the happier emotions of Mike’s sigh, El can also hear just how tired he sounds. And as much as El hates to admit it, sleeping with his head essentially in her lap while he’s curled up and cramped on the couch can’t be restful. El waits a couple of minutes before waking him up, though, unwilling to let go of the feel of Mike pressed against her or her hand in his hair. But, after those couple of minutes are up, El knows she really can’t linger any longer, no matter how much her heart begs for otherwise.

El moves her hand back down to Mike’s shoulder, fingers immediately missing the soft warmth of his hair, and she grips him enough to give him a gentle shake. “Hey, sleepyhead,” El says, leaning over to speak the words closer to his ear. “Wake up, Mike.”

Mike wakes with a quiet start before he lets out a sound that is part groan, part sigh. “Don’t wanna,” he murmurs. “Comfy.”

El’s heart twists and she almost backs down, but she knows he can’t stay where he is. “Probably be more comfy in your own bed.” She nudges him. “C’mon, let’s get you into your room.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Mike says with a sleepy huff before he sits up, arms limp at his side like they’re tied down with weights as he gets to his feet. El gets up with him and follows him down the hall, escorting him like he’s drunk or something (though, when you’re really tired, it almost feels like the same thing). “G’night, El,” Mike says as he reaches the door to his room, turning to look down at her in the dim hallway.

El smiles up and reaches for him, her hand giving his arm just above the elbow a brief squeeze. “Good night, Mike. I’ll put the pizza away for when you want it, ok?”

Mike smiles, all adorable and sleepy. “You’re so nice to me. You’re just...the best.”

El feels her cheeks heat up in a blush. “Go to bed, Mike. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“‘K,” Mike breathes before he slips into his room and shuts the door behind him.

El lets out a shaky breath before she turns and heads back down the hallway, feeling the tether that connects her to Mike stretch and grow taut as she re-enters the living room. She so very badly wants to go to Mike and crawl into bed with him, all sleepy and soft, just perfectly snuggly and secure. El remembers the feel of him holding her when she fell asleep after her nightmare a few weeks ago and she misses it so badly.

 _It’s strange how experiencing something only one time can make you crave it ever after,_ El thinks with a shake of her head as she goes about tidying up the apartment a little – folding up the blanket she was using on the couch, putting away her dishes, wrapping up the pizza and putting it in the fridge. She goes into her room not much longer later once she’s finished, feeling the effects of her day pull at her with its own exhaustion.

El reads in bed for a while before she goes to bed, even though it’s not even 10:30 yet and, _god,_ she feels like an old person going to bed before 11. But she turns out the light anyway and as she snuggles beneath her covers, holding her pillow close, her thoughts naturally drift to Mike. She hopes that he’s getting a good night sleep and that tomorrow brings him better luck than today did.

Unfortunately, though, she just jinxed it.

El finds this out the next morning as she’s getting ready for work. She’s in the kitchen making breakfast, already showered and dressed for work. It’s quiet in the kitchen, so El is humming to herself to fill the void, completely caught up in the moment.

So she doesn’t at all hear Mike shuffling his way down the hall to the kitchen, not expecting him to be up this early.

“Hey, El?”

The voice sounds behind her as she’s finishing scooping eggs onto her plate. It’s a voice that she barely recognizes and her heart leaps straight up into her throat. El lets out a small, shocked scream as she whirls around, spatula held up like she might need to defend herself with it.

But it’s just Mike and El sucks in a relieved breath at the sight of him. “Oh god, it’s you. You scared me,” El says, pressing the hand not holding the spatula to her chest, over her pounding heart.

It only takes one glance at Mike to understand why El didn’t recognize his voice. Sallow skin in stark contrast to the sharp flush high on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes, hair limp and ragged, arms pulled tight across his chest as he shivers despite the comfortable temperature of the apartment….

Yeah, Mike’s sick, _really_ sick, looking like he’s about to pass out in the kitchen. Still, he cringes at scaring her, biting his lip in contrite embarrassment that is as adorable as it is pitiful. “Sorry,” he says in a voice that sounds _terrible,_ all raspy and phlegmy. It makes El wince in sympathy for how painful it must be to speak. “Didn’t mean to scare you...or bother you. I know you’re getting ready for work. Just, um….” Mike looks away and, if possible, hugs himself even tighter. “Do you have any cold medicine? I thought I had some, but I….” He trails off with a shrug glancing back at her. He looks embarrassed, almost ashamed, like he doesn’t want to ask for help...like he doesn’t think he _deserves_ it.

El swallows against the lump that forms in her throat and an overpowering urge to _help_ fills her. El doesn’t resist and, breakfast completely forgotten, she heads straight over to Mike. “Yeah, I have cold medicine. And I have cough drops – you’re going to want them for that sore throat of yours,” El says as she reaches up for him, her hand sliding beneath the hair that’s fallen over his face so she can check him for a fever.

The skin that her palm comes in contact with is too hot and El doesn’t at all miss the way Mike whimpers at the feel of her cooler hand against his feverish skin. And then he leans into her touch, eyes slipping shut, and El’s heart almost implodes in her chest. “God, you’re burning up.” She removes her hand and reaches down to gently grab Mike by the arm. “C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.”

Mike lets El guide him back down the hallway and into his room, where he crawls back into bed under her watchful eye. “Ok,” El says once Mike’s back under the covers. “I’ll go get you the cold medicine and some water. You want anything to eat? Or some tea? We have lemon and honey, which would also feel good on your throat.”

Mike looks up at her, uncertainty cutting through the exhaustion radiating from him. “Um, you don’t have to do all that. Just the medicine and water is good. I don’t want to make you late for work.”

El gives Mike a look as she gazes down at him, having what she feels is both the literal and metaphorical high ground here. “Mike, I can be a little late. Besides, you’re my _friend._ And that’s way more important right now.” El smiles and tries not to let the way Mike’s looking at her – an intoxicating mix of gratitude and disbelief that rocks her to her core – make her fall in love with him even more than she already has. “Now, what do you want to eat? Are you even hungry?”

Mike frowns, but he takes a moment to think and El almost sighs in relief at the sight. Means he’s taking her up on her offer to help. “Not too hungry, but tea sounds good, if you don’t mind.”

El shakes her head and leans over just a little so she can squeeze his shoulder where it’s peeking up from underneath the covers. “I would never mind,” she says, her voice low and soothing, before she pulls back to full standing height. “Ok, so cold medicine, water, and tea. I think we also have some crackers, so I’ll bring those as well. Be back in a sec, ok?”

El doesn’t wait for Mike’s confirmation before she rushes off to get together the things Mike asked for. It doesn’t take long before El’s coming back into Mike’s room with a mug of tea in one hand, a glass of water in the other, and crackers and medicine held close against her body with one arm. “Alright, here we are,” El says as she starts setting things down on Mike’s nightstand, feeling his eyes on her the entire time. “I’ll come back at lunch to see how you’re doing and to see if you need me to grab anything else.”

Mike’s cheeks flush and it’s _not_ because of the fever. “El, you really don’t have to-”

“No, I _want_ to,” El says as she sits down next to him so she can get him a dose of cold medicine out from the blister pack it’s held in, watching him sit up out of the corner of her eye. “You’re important to me, Mike. And I want to help you get better.”

El looks at him to hand over the pills and her gaze locks with his. He’s looking at her like he can’t believe she’s real, like he can never repay her for what she’s doing for him. It’s addicting and gratifying all at the same time and El can’t help but bask in the feeling of caring for him, of helping him get better. Especially not when he’s looking at her like that, like she’s _amazing._

“Thank you,” Mike says, voice just above a hoarse whisper.

“Any time,” El says as she hands over the pills. She watches him take them, swallowing them down with some water, before she gets to her feet. “Ok, I’m going to quickly eat my breakfast and get to work. I want you to get some sleep and if you think of anything you want before my lunch break, just let me know and I’ll grab it on my way home.”

Mike gives her a grateful, if exhausted smile. “Ok, will do.”

El smiles and, before she can stop herself, she reaches over and brushes his limp, slightly damp hair away from his face, her fingertips scraping gently against his scalp before she pulls her hand away. “Get some sleep, Mike. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Mike’s staring up at her with wide eyes and El holds back a cringe at the realization that he’s surprised by the way she just touched him. But is it good surprised...or _bad_ surprised? He recovers before El can figure it out and smiles again as he lays back down. “Ok. Bye El. Thank you.”

Mike doesn’t text her at all that morning and, when El stops by during lunch with chicken soup, Gatorade, and more cold medicine, he’s fast asleep, curled up in bed with the tea and crackers she left him barely touched. El sets the soup on the counter and quickly eats her lunch while she puts the rest of the things away before she heads back to work.

The rest of the day is quiet, Mike sleeping through most of it even after El gets home from work, and she goes to bed that night having barely talked to him at all.

And then, the next morning, it’s El’s turn to wake up feeling like death warmed over. Everything aches, her head feels like someone replaced her brain with cotton, and her throat’s on fire.

Yep, it’s official: she caught Mike’s cold.

It doesn’t take Mike long to find out – not when they run into each other in the apartment mid-morning, El clearly not at work now that both of them are really sick – and he tries to apologize, but El waves him off. The nasty cold they’ve come down with has been going around everywhere the past couple of weeks and given that El works with kids, it was only a matter of time before she came down with it, too.

Besides, she’s too exhausted to listen to Mike try to apologize for something that isn’t his fault, and she figures he’s equally too exhausted to shoulder the blame for this.

They each spend all day Friday sleeping in their own beds and, by Saturday, their bodies are tired of sleeping even though they’re still really sick.

El cobbles enough energy together to make a bunch of toast and tea before she shuffles into Mike’s room where he’s watching TV on low volume, laying in the dead middle of his mattress and propped up against his headboard, looking like he’s about 2 minutes from falling asleep. “Scoot over,” she says, wincing at her sore throat, as she sets things down on the nightstand, shivering all the while as her body’s wracked with fever. “I’m freezing and you’re a furnace.”

“Bossy,” Mike mumbles, but he scoots over to the side of the bed he normally favors and lifts the covers enough so El can crawl beneath them.

El knows she shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t let her heart get all tangled up by crawling into bed with Mike when they’re just friends. But she’s sick and cold and lonely and _tired_ of being cooped up alone in her room. And, really, there’s nothing at all romantic about this, not when she’s feeling this horrible. No, all El wants right now is the company of her best friend and all that entails. So, without hesitation, El gets into bed, sliding beneath the covers with all the grace of a newborn foal.

El lets out a pitiful whimper as the heat of the blankets drapes over her and she passes Mike a mug of tea. “Toast?” she asks, holding the plate out between them.

“Ok,” Mike says before he grabs a piece. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” El takes a piece of her own and nibbles on it as she sets the plate down.

“How are you feeling?” Mike asks, now sounding stuffy as well as hoarse.

“Like shit. You?”

“Same.”

El sighs and scoots over so she can curl up against Mike’s warmth, her head resting easily on his shoulder as she finishes her toast. “What are you watching?” she asks, her gaze focusing on the TV.

El feels Mike’s head shift so that he’s looking down at the blanket. “Was this all a ruse so you could get crumbs in my bed? Because if so, it’s working.”

“Sorry,” El says as she haphazardly brushes aside the crumbs that have fallen on top of the blanket. “Still haven’t answered my question.”

Mike lets out a harsh sigh. “I don’t even know anymore. I’m using your dad’s cable subscription right now, so I just threw it on some rerun or other.”

El narrows her eyes at the screen and manages to gather up enough energy to pay attention to the screen. She lets out a weak giggle a second later. “I think you managed to land on ‘The Gilmore Girls’.”

“Oh, that explains all the fast paced dialogue,” Mike says through a mouthful of toast. “I’m barely paying attention – the volume’s down real low, anyway – so change it to whatever you want.”

El shrugs, but otherwise doesn’t move. “No, this is good. I like this show.” She blinks, long and slow, feeling tendrils of exhaustion pull her down with it’s sweet, siren song. God, she’s so _tired._ Apparently, all it takes is making tea and toast to make her want to take a nap. It doesn’t help that she’s warm and comfortable right now for the first time in what feels like forever, snuggled up against Mike’s side, letting his warmth bleed into hers like it’s able to drive out the germs that have infected her. “Besides, I think I’m going to fall asleep in, like, 5 minutes. So it doesn’t matter what’s on TV.”

Mike breathes out a quiet laugh before he sniffles. “Well, since I used you as a pillow a couple nights ago, I suppose it’s only fair to repay the favor.”

El closes her eyes, but doesn’t open them up again this time. “Mmm, such a good friend you are.” El would have cringed at how horrible her voice sounds when she speaks in a low murmur – this sore throat really isn’t doing anything for her right now – but she’s too tired to care.

“Well, I try,” Mike says. El feels his cheek press against the top her head as he leans against her. His voice sounds like his own exhaustion is claiming him as well and all El can think is how comfortable this all feels, the combined heat of their bodies warming the air beneath the covers as they huddle together. The only downer is the horrible colds they have, but if El has to suffer through this with anyone, she’s glad it’s with Mike.

Silence falls between them and El dozes off to the sound of the low drone of Lorelai and Rory Gilmore’s rapid fire banter as they live their rom-com drama filled lives.

Time passes in hazy fits and starts, it feels like. She moves at one point – or is moved, she can’t tell which exactly – shifting so that she’s lying on her side, face half-pressed into the pillow beneath her head. She’s warm, curled up loosely beneath the covers. She can dimly hear the sound of the TV still in the background, but it barely pierces through the fog of near-sleep that’s engulfed her.

She’s too focused on the fact that the vague achiness that’s infused her bones for the past couple of days seems to be kept at bay by the comfortable position she’s managed to curl up into and it feels like she’s floating in a cocoon of gentle warmth. And, best of all, she can feel Mike behind her, his side pressed against her back from shoulder to hip. From the way he’s breathing with light snores that rattle with the mucus that’s starting to over take his airways, El figures he’s on his back. She wants to roll over and hold him close, but the thought of moving is just too exhausting and El stays put.

So it’s not surprising when El actually manages to fall asleep, not just doze. And it honestly feels like the best few hours of sleep she’s ever gotten in her entire life, the kind of sleep that’s been elusive for the past couple of days, driven away by the way she hasn’t been able to get comfortable and how everything’s ached with sickness.

When El finally wakes up, everything feels foggy and heavy as she slowly comes out of sleep. She doesn’t feel _better,_ per se, but she definitely feels not quite as bad as she did a few hours ago. Not enough that she wants to move, though – though she’s going to have to get up and go to the bathroom eventually – but enough that she’s willing to start thinking about maybe eventually getting up to eat something more than toast or crackers. But she’s so warm right now, like she’s surrounded by gentle sunlight, and nothing could convince her to move now before she’s ready.

A moment later, awareness slowly begins seep in as El realizes just _why_ she feels engulfed by warmth and her heart thumps heavily in her chest as she takes full stock of her situation. The solid warmth that presses against her from the top of her spine to right behind her knees, the band that’s wrapped tight around her waist, the puffs of air that tickle her ear, the fingers digging into her side where they’re curled between her and the mattress...it all adds up to one thing.

Mike. Is holding her. While he sleeps.

_Holy shit._

The thought hits her with stark clarity, crystal even through the mental fog of her cold.

Suddenly, El’s hyper aware of every inch of her body where it’s pressed against Mike’s – his knees cradled in the crook of hers, his thighs flush with hers, the expanse of his chest pressed her back, the way his elbow hooks neatly around the curve of her waist, how the length of his arm is perfect enough to encircle her entirely so that his fingers can tuck in beneath her hip.

God, even worse _(and by **worse** , el means **better** ), _ the thermal El’s wearing for warmth has ridden up just a little, enough to expose a sliver of skin between the top of her pj pants and the hem of her shirt...and a couple of Mike’s fingers are pressed along that exposed stripe of skin, the heat of his fingers like a firebrand against her hip. That plus the gentle rush of his breath against her ear, lightly tickling and oh so thrilling, has El’s heart threatening to explode where it’s racing in her chest.

El desperately wants to turn around, wants to roll over in Mike’s embrace so she can drink in the sight of him lying so close. But El doesn’t dare move. For one, moving could disturb this perfect moment and make Mike wake up and stop holding her when El really wants anything but that. But, also, if she turns over, El’s not entirely sure she’ll be able to keep herself from kissing him. And kissing Mike is a _really_ bad idea, not the least because they’re both sick, but also because she’s not even sure if he _wants_ her to kiss him. And El’s not the kind of person who goes around kissing sleeping people when they might not even want her to.

So, El doesn’t move, body tense with the effort to keep still, to not ruin this beautiful, torturous gift she’s been handed. Her heart pangs with longing even while it’s frantically racing to keep up with the butterflies that have taken over her stomach. It’s just that she wants this _so bad_ and now that she knows what it’s like to be held by him, to be snuggled up beside him in bed, El knows nothing else will ever feel quite as warm, as _perfect._

 _Dammit, it’s not fair,_ El thinks with a quiet sigh as she tries to relax. She very nearly succeeds.

All the turmoil that churns inside of her coupled with the effort it takes to lay still drains the scant energy reserves she has left, reserves that have been drained from fighting off this stupid cold and, before El knows it, she’s fallen back asleep, safe and warm in Mike’s embrace, even if he’s unaware of what he’s doing.

The next time El wakes up, she realizes there’s going to be no lingering in bed any longer. Mike’s still holding her – hell, they’ve barely moved at all in the time that’s passed since El fell asleep again – but she absolutely has to go to the bathroom.

So, cringing at both the lack of desire to move and at the heavy soreness that’s infused her limbs like lead, El begins the slow process of extracting herself from Mike’s arms, hoping she can slip out without waking him up.

No such luck, though.

Almost the second El starts moving, the arm around her waist somehow manages to tighten around her even more, pulling her back to where she was. “Don’t go,” comes the sound of Mike’s sleepy murmur. “Y’feel good.”

El’s breath sticks in her throat as she chokes on a gasp. Did he mean…?

 _No, don’t do this now._ “Mike, I need to get up.” Her voice doesn’t sound nearly as bad as it did, but it’s still too gravely to be anywhere close to attractive.

Mike’s arm around her waist tenses, lifting off her her a little as his hand slides out from underneath her hip, moving away from her so fast it’s like he’s been burned, like he wants nothing more than to stop touching her. “El?”

And there’s her heart, coming crashing back down to earth. _Like Icarus, flew too high before it all fell apart._ “Yeah, sorry. I think we fell asleep,” El says as she _finally_ turns around so she can look at him.

Mike’s still half asleep, but the embarrassment on his face is palpable. “God, I’m sorry,” he says, blush spreading high on his cheeks. “I swear, I don’t normally manhandle people while they’re sleeping.”

El smiles, but it feels tremulous, fueled by uncertainty and her own embarrassment at getting caught up in this whole situation. “It’s ok,” El says, trying to sound more relaxed than she really is right in this moment. “You were sleeping, too. Completely involuntary on your part. I’m sure I was just a convenient source of warmth.”

Mike gives her a small smile...or tries to, at any rate. El can’t help but notice that it’s a half-assed effort, his eyes looking away from her from embarrassment and something else that El can’t quite identify. Is it shame? Discomfort? _Disgust?_ Well, regardless of what it does, the sight of it does nothing to save El’s heart from sinking into her stomach.

“Still, I’m sorry,” Mike says. “You’re my friend and, well, friends don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

 _But I want to be treated like that!_ The sentiment rings heavy in her heart, like a clarion call that resonates through every fiber of her being. Only the words get stuck in her throat, fear of exposing herself, her _heart,_ closing up her airways.

El gulps and takes in a shaky breath. “Well, not that you have anything to be sorry for, but I forgive you.” She winces a second later as her bladder makes itself known. “And I _really_ need to go to the bathroom,” she says with a sigh. “Wanna meet me out in the kitchen in a few? I think I might have enough energy to try making something for dinner. I’m actually a little hungry, even.”

Mike smiles at her again, this one real and sincere, if a little tired and still small. “Yeah, sure. I think I might take a shower before joining you. Being sick always makes me feel a little gross.”

El nods, still smiling weakly. “Good idea.” She sits up, glancing away as she swings her legs out from beneath the covers. “Well, I’ll meet you out there. Um, thanks for letting me sleep in your bed, I guess.”

“Anytime,” comes Mike’s almost immediate response.

El’s eyes widen and she turns to look over her shoulder, feeling her face heat up with a complicated mix of hope and shock. “What?”

Mike’s eyes are just as wide as he stares back at her, panic writ large on his features, a fierce blush rising up over his skin. “Oh, _god,_ um, that’s not what I – look, I just – my mouth sometimes-” Mike presses his lips together and breathes out a harsh sigh before he gets to his feet, all shaky and weak due to the cold he’s been suffering under. “I’m just gonna take a shower,” he throws over his shoulder as he bee-lines it to his bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a decisive ‘click’.

El feels the breath rush out of her once she’s alone, Mike “safely” behind his bathroom door. She stands on wobbly legs, blood rushing to her head at the sudden change in altitude, and she heads over to her bathroom to relieve the pressure on her complaining bladder.

The entire time she’s in the bathroom and even once she’s made her way out into the kitchen, El can’t stop thinking about what Mike said when she tried to get out bed without waking him up. _“Don’t go. You feel good.”_ The words echo in her head, over and over, stealing her breath and robbing her of thought.

God, what did he mean by them? Was he even aware it was _her_ he was talking to? Or was he dreaming?

El has answers to none of those questions and she sighs, shoulders slumping as she lazily digs through the refrigerator for something to make that won’t take too much effort.

There’s one thing she does know, though:

_She’s too chicken shit to ask._

 

* * *

  
It’s a dream Mike never wants to wake up from.

He’s comfortable for what feels like the first time in days, the achiness from his cold faded and distant while he’s curled up gently beneath his covers.

But that’s not the best part of this dream.

 _This_ is: the barely-there hints of floral shampoo; svelte curves tucked against him; a waist that slopes just so, the crook of his elbow fitting perfectly where it dips; the soft sounds of breathing, enchantingly content.

_El._

It’s not a dream, though...at least, he _thinks_ it’s not. El’s really here with him, _in his bed._ It takes him a couple of seconds to understand what’s happening but, once he does, warm tingles spread across every inch of his skin, emanating from a heart that races in his chest.

And then she moves, sliding slowly from his grip. Mike acts instinctually, body reacting to keep her close while his mind is still trying to catch up to what’s going on. He just wants to hold on to this for a little while longer, to this perfect, sleepy fantasy his brain’s concocted for him. He begs her, then, not to go, the words slipping from his lips without his control.

The body in his arms freezes and when El speaks a moment later, voice raspy with the sore throat that’s still plaguing her, the sound of it is enough to jolt Mike into semi-awareness (hey, he’s still sick, after all – there’s only so much shock can do at this point).

Panic and embarrassment immediately fill Mike, warring for which emotion will reign supreme, and the mood turns awkward with a speed that makes his head spin as reality comes crashing down around him. God, he was practically fucking _manhandling_ her while she slept, without her permission. Yes, he was asleep, too, as El points out while Mike’s trying to apologize, but _still._

The entire time, though, Mike can’t seem to shake the phantom memory of holding El close, his arm and chest tingling with the lingering warmth of her body pressed against his. Mike’s heart is thumping out of control in his chest and just the knowledge that he truly knows what it is to hold El while they sleep, bundled up under the covers as their bodies spoon together, has his lips threatening to pull up in a lovesick smile. Mike fights to keep a hold on his emotions, hoping at least he’s able to keep from looking like some sort of creeper who invades women’s personal spaces while they’re sleeping.

He just feels so exposed right now, like his heart’s on his sleeve for everyone to see. Mike hopes he’s not giving everything away, that El isn’t able to see right through him.

The look on her face as they talk, though, as she asks if he wants to join her in the kitchen in a little bit, is filled with uncertainty, so Mike’s giving away _something._

_Please, let it be just embarrassment. God, **please** don’t have me looking like a lovesick fool right now. _

Still, the moment seems to be passing as Mike uses the invitation to segue into declaring his intention to go and take a shower – maybe it was just the awkwardness of waking up in an unfamiliar situation or something.

But then El thanks Mike for letting her sleep in his bed and Mike’s immediate response of “Anytime” brings the awkwardness rushing right back in and ratcheting up to near unbearable levels.

Mike takes the coward’s way out under the intensity of El’s confused gaze and all but sprints to the bathroom to escape (or, at least, he moves as fast as he can given he feels like a baby giraffe taking its first steps, his legs are so shaky).

He resists the urge to bang his head against the wall of the bathtub as he stands beneath the spray from the shower. One, he has a low-grade headache right now because of his cold, so that would only make it feel worse. But, really, banging his head against the wall isn’t going to make him any less of an awkward wastoid. Because he pretty much just admitted that he wants El to be with him (at least in his bed) and Mike really sees no graceful way to recover from this.

Or _any_ way, if he’s being honest.

Still, Mike knows he can’t hide from El forever so, after his shower, he puts on his bravest face and shuffles out to where El’s making eggs so he can wait for her to confront him, to ask him about what he meant before she, in what will probably be way nicer than he deserves, turns him down and says she only wants to be friends with him.

At this point, Mike’s pretty much waiting for the other shoe to drop, so he can accept that what he feels for El is decidedly one-sided because guys like him never end up with women like El. _Never._ Besides, this way, he’ll have a reason to force himself to stop being the worst friend on the face of the planet by having a horrible, all-encompassing attraction to his best friend and he can just love her the way a friend should. So, yeah, the other shoe _has_ to drop because Mike doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

Only, it never happens. El says nothing about what happens as they hang out first in the kitchen, then cuddled beneath a blanket on the couch while they watch “Pacific Rim”, both of them still all fuzzy-headed and stuffy from their colds. He spends the entire time with bated breath, half-tense, waiting for El to turn to him so she can let him down easy. But it never happens.

In fact, 3 weeks go by and it _still_ hasn’t happened. Mike’s getting used to teetering on the knife’s edge of waiting, of straddling the line between dreaded anticipation and torture, of being unable to breathe every time he and El are in the same room because of the tension that’s taken up residence in the air between them.

They’re good at ignoring it, though, and Mike’s beginning to think that both he and El missed their calling as actors because, holy shit, are they good at pretending everything’s ok. If Mike hadn’t gotten to know El so well over the past several months, he’d never be able to tell that she was at all nervous and apprehensive. But he catches her looking at him out of the corner of her eye sometimes, like _she’s_ the one waiting for something, like she doesn’t hold all the cards here. Only Mike, for the life of him, can’t figure out _what_ she might be waiting for, why she looks at him like she’s not sure what’s going on.

_No, she has to know, right? It’s been very obvious that I have a massive crush on her, especially after that whole ‘sleeping in the same bed’ debacle._

The thought’s been a touchstone of Mike’s over the past few weeks. _Everyone_ has noticed how Mike’s fallen for El. And El’s too smart and observant to not have noticed, as well.

_So why hasn’t she said anything?_

At first, Mike thinks it’s the roommate thing – he knows he gave El a good deal on the room, that she’d be hard-pressed to easily find something as good. But it’s not impossible. With a little digging, there’s lots of places to live in Chicago that would suit El’s needs. So her reason for not saying anything isn’t because she’s trapped into being roommates with him and doesn’t want to make it awkward.

Mike just wishes he knew what the _actual_ reason was. It’s obvious that there’s _something_ sitting between them and, well, Mike’s already all but put himself out there and he’s not about to embarrass himself again. So it’s El’s turn.

Only, again, nothing happens and Mike feels like he’s stuck in the world’s worst limbo.

_**This** , right here, is purgatory. Fuck whatever Dante said it was. _

But, if El wants to ignore it, then Mike’s not going to push it. He’ll just live with the awkwardness forever because he likes being friends with her too much and he’s too much of a coward to risk losing her by pushing her outside of her comfort zone.

Still, doesn’t make things any less awkward. But Mike knows he can adapt – he’s been awkward his whole life, so it’s like putting on an old sweater: familiar and well-worn.

Mike just hopes this can at least become his new normal soon – the rest of the Party is starting to give both him and El weird looks and the last thing Mike wants to do is have this be a _thing_ with everyone else. No, whatever’s going on between him and El needs to stay that way.

It’s just too bad Mike can’t force this process to happen any faster.

 

* * *

  
Mike doesn’t know it yet, but what he’s about to do is a massive step towards _everything_ changing. But, like a rock that’s just been launched towards a pool of still water, there’s no way he can know the impending splash and ripples this is about to have.

No, in the moment, all Mike’s thinking about is how much he doesn’t want to go home for Thanksgiving in a couple of days.

It’s the Monday before the holiday and it’s a quiet week for the both of them – Mike’s off from school until after the weekend and El’s caseload is at a bit of a lull due to the short week. So both of them are hanging out on the couch, sitting side-by-side, hips and thighs pressed together while they rest their outstretched feet on the coffee table.

(All the weird tension that’s been living between them for the past few weeks has done nothing to affect the complete lack of personal space between them and Mike won’t lie – it’s confusing as all hell. Still, he’s totally and completely unable to do anything but embrace it when El snuggles up against him or touches him in anyway. What can he say? He’s weak like that.)

Somehow, El’s roped Mike into watching a “Fixer Upper” marathon on HGTV and they’ve started playing a drinking game, chugging the beers they’re drinking to go with their dinner whenever anyone says “shiplap”. So far, they’re two episodes and three beers in and Mike’s at the state of intoxication where he loses control of his thoughts, unable to stop his mind from wandering while he’s only half paying attention to Chip and Jo’s mild antics.

And what he’s thinking about now is how much he’s dreading going back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving.

It’s been just over two months since that disastrous dinner with his parents and things are _still_ really fucking tense. He hasn’t spoken to his dad at all since it happened – not that Mike wants to, given how his dad treated El, the things he said about her. God, just remembering that makes Mike’s stomach twist, angry bile rising up in his throat. As far as he’s concerned, Mike could never speak to his dad again and not miss him at all.

_Makes me wonder how I ever came from **that**. _

Mike honestly doesn’t know how he and his dad are at all related. Mike would never _dream_ of treating anyone like that, no matter what his personal feelings were.

Every time he talks to his mom, though, she tries to get him to understand, to find his way to forgiving his dad, like Mike’s just supposed to forget that his dad treated one of his friends like absolute shit without knowing a thing about them.

(Really, Mike would be just as mad even if he wasn’t madly in love with El, even if he only saw her as a friend. He’d be just as mad if his dad treated any of his other friends that way. In this instance, El doesn’t get any special consideration. Mike just thinks his dad is a complete and utter asshole.

Still, if she hadn’t stood up to Ted that evening at the restaurant, Mike doesn’t know if he’d have been able to summon the courage and will to do it. El blazed the trail he very gladly followed and Mike _knows_ he’ll go wherever she leads as long as she lets him tag along.)

It’s made his conversations with his mom awkward and strained, which is about the only thing Mike feels bad about. The animosity between father and son is hurting Karen and the last thing Mike wants to do is hurt his mom. But his dad’s gotten away with this behavior for too long and Mike’s not going to let him any more. Mike’s spent years ducking away from his father’s gross behavior, scared of upending the established family order, not wanting to draw his father’s anger. But Mike’s done with enabling him and his mom is just going to have to live with it.

So, yeah, Thanksgiving’s gonna be _fun._

Another thing Mike’s not looking forward to? The drive from Chicago to Hawkins. It’s not overly long or anything – about 4 and a half hours straight through – but it’s _boring._ Just endless miles of fields punctuated by a few cities and towns that go by in a blink of an eye.

 _Wish someone was carpooling with me._ But none of the rest of the Party is heading to Hawkins for the holiday. Dustin and Megan are heading to Boston where her extended family is hosting, Lucas and Max are going to California for Max’s dad, and Will and Greg are staying in Chicago to be with Greg’s family. It’s just Mike heading out to Indiana, this time.

_Wait, hold on a minute._

The thought that hits Mike what feels like out of the blue sends a ripple of excitement zipping down his spine and before he can even begin to talk himself out of it, Mike turns to look over at El, his head rolling against the cushion propping him up.

Only, El must also have something on her mind, because she’s turning to look over at him at the same time, her posture mirroring his exactly. And, for a moment, Mike just _freezes._

_God, she’s beautiful._

Mike had been hoping to have a moment to prepare himself before she looked over at him, to steel himself against the undeniable and overwhelming power of her beauty before it was fully turned in his direction. But luck isn’t on his side and now Mike’s struggling to keep himself in control.

El’s close, _really_ close, her face only inches away. Mike’s almost uncomfortably aware of the lack of space between them, of how it would take no effort at all to lean over and kiss her. She’s so close, he can even feel the gentle pressure of her breath against his skin when she exhales.

Mike’s totally captivated, wholly and completely ensnared by her. El’s looking over at him with eyes sparkling with humor, a mischievous smile on her face with cheeks that are rosy from the beers they’ve been drinking. The barest hint of her dimples graces her face and she licks her lips before speaking, her tongue peeking out temptingly as she runs it along the fullness of her mouth.

It takes literally every scrap of willpower Mike has to keep from leaning in and capturing those beautiful, tempting lips in a kiss that would (hopefully) leave both of them breathless. He grits his teeth, muscles taut with the strain of holding himself back, and waits for El to speak since his voice has been stolen by the sight of her so close.

“Hey, you think we should add the phrase ‘demo day’ to our drinking game?”’El asks, biting her lower lips in an attempt to rein in her smile that just makes Mike want to kiss her _more._

Somehow, Mike’s able to focus on the task at hand _(and, god, does he ever wish kissing was what he was supposed to be focusing on right now)_ and he manages a grin of his own as he glances over at the TV where guys are wielding sledgehammers and crowbars as they take down cabinets and walls. “I think we’d need way more beer,” Mike says, looking back at El. “Given that I think they say ‘demo day’ about 5 times per episode from what I can tell.”

El purses her lips, thinking, eyes narrowing as she considers. “Hmm, good point. Maybe if we catch a weekend marathon.”

“Somehow, I think there’s no ‘maybe’ about it,” Mike says with a snort. “I swear, this show is what they run on this channel, like, half the time.”

“But Mike, it’s so good!” El says, lips pouting just a bit. “Are you telling me you _don’t_ like this show?”

Mike holds up a hand. “Hey, no, not what I was saying,” he says with a wry shake of his head. “It’s just that they show it _all the time._ ”

“Fair point,” El says. She goes silent, staring at him for a moment, before she tilts her head a little, a curious expression creeping onto her face. “Did you have something you wanted to say?” she asks. Her voice is pitched with growing concern and the sound of it tugs at Mike’s heart.

So, he taps her knee with his to reassure her before he speaks. “Oh, yeah, I just had a question for you about how you’re getting back to Indianapolis. You are going on Wednesday, right?”

El arches an eyebrow, her expression relaxing. “Yeah, I was planning on driving. Why?”

Mike grins. That’s the answer he was looking for. “Wanna carpool? Indianapolis is kinda on the way back to Hawkins, so I can drive, drop you off before heading the rest of the way.”

A smile pulls up the corners of El’s lips. “Why do you have to drive, why can’t I?”

Mike’s eyebrow quirks up, mirroring El’s. “Well, you’d have to double back, if that was the case. Really, this is the most efficient way.”

El’s smile softens as she looks at him with gentle regard. “What made you think of this in the first place?” she asks.

“Thoughts wandered to going home for the holidays,” Mike says with a shrug. “Realized we were going nearly to the same place and thought it might be nice not to make the drive by myself.” Both of Mike’s eyebrows arch this time as he smiles at her. “So, whaddya say? Wanna go on a road trip?”

That earns Mike a full on giggle, El’s smile growing to near blinding proportions. “Mike, I would _love_ to carpool with you. A road trip sounds fantastic.” She pauses, giving him an arch look. “As long as I get to pick the music.”

Mike rolls his eyes and sighs, all put out, but it’s just an act and both he and El know it. “ _Fine,_ ” he huffs, but he’s smiling all throughout so the effect is ruined.

It doesn’t help at all when El winks at him, the playful, flirty expression making his stomach do a dizzying flip. “I’ll make sure to play stuff you like, you big baby. But if I play Fleetwood Mac, you can’t complain when I crank up TLC.”

“Oh, don’t try to deny that you love Fleetwood Mac,” Mike says as he gives her a look, a chuckle building up in his chest.

“Ugh, _fine,_ but only because _you_ love it so much.”

 

* * *

 

This is how Mike finds himself in the car on a 4 hour drive two days later, El by his side as they alternate between singing along to the road trip mix El put together and having deep conversations about nothing and everything.

It is, in short, the best long car ride Mike’s ever been on in his entire life. Sure, it has a lot to do with the fact that whenever Mike glances over, there’s a very beautiful woman sitting in the passenger seat of his car, who always seems to be laughing at the silly jokes he makes or nodding emphatically to whatever point he’s making or just smiling _at_ him as she responds to his questions and comments with a quiet enthusiasm that is as addicting as it is validating.

But, also, El’s honestly become Mike’s best friend over the course of the past five months and he just likes spending time with her as friends. She’s smart and funny and they have the same stupid sense of humor (though they both endlessly tease the other for it) and mostly similar tastes in movies and TV shows.

But there’s an especially poignant level of excitement building in the woman sitting next to him, ratcheting up more the closer they get to the address typed into the GPS on Mike’s phone. He grins, unable to help himself. “Excited to be going home?” he asks once there’s a tiny lull in the conversation.

Next to him, out of the corner of his eye, El’s excitement somehow manages to get even stronger and the smile she gives him is enough to outshine the sun. “ _Very,_ ” El says. She sounds almost exactly like a kid the day before Christmas, but with a little bit of adult wistfulness mixed in for good measure. “I haven’t seen my dad since I moved in with you, so I’m looking forward to spending a few days with him.”

Mike’s stomach twists. _God,_ he envies the relationship El has with her dad. Every time he overhears El talking to Hopper on the phone, the easy, comfortable, _loving_ tone in El’s voice always brings a lump to his throat. And it’s worse now more than ever, _especially_ since he’s about to spend a couple days at home with his parents.

It just doesn’t feel fair sometimes. Mike did everything right – well, as much as he could – and it still wasn’t enough. His dad still doesn’t respect him, much less love him as a son.

Mike just wishes he knew what he could have done differently, _if_ there’s anything he could have done. Sometimes, though, Mike thinks he and his dad were always destined to be at odds with each other and the thought makes him both sad and angry at the same time.

But, just because he envies what El has with her dad, doesn’t mean he’s not happy she has it. After everything El’s been through, Mike’s glad she has such a strong, solid relationship with a parent who loves and supports her and treats her like a functioning adult. It’s more than Mike has with either of his parents, that’s for sure.

All of this thought and emotion makes it into the smile Mike flashes in El’s direction and Mike wishes that he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve quite so easily. “That sounds nice. I know you’ve been missing your dad.”

“Yeah, it’s going to be nice.” El pauses and Mike can see her shifting to face him fully, her shoulder braced against the back of the seat, her head tilting to lean on the headrest. “What about you?”

Mike scoffs, the sound sticking in the back of his throat with thick emotion. “The day I look forward to going home, please have me checked to see if I’ve been replaced by a pod person.”

El lets out a sharp hiss, sucking in a breath through her teeth. “Things still bad with your parents?”

“Well, my dad, for sure,” Mike says with a sigh. “My mom keeps trying to get me to forgive him, but….”

“But what?”

There’s a bit of heavy silence that squeezes around Mike’s chest like a band of iron. He shifts in the driver’s seat, trying to get comfortable, while his left arm moves so that his elbow is perched on the door, hand propping up his head as he tries to figure out what exactly he wants to say.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive him, El.” A thought occurs to Mike and he rushes to clarify. “And it’s not just how he treated you. He’s been like this my whole life – mean and disapproving and judgmental. I’m tired of it, tired of trying to live up to these unrealistic ideals he has for me, tired of ignoring all the horrible shit he’s said to me over the years. I don’t want that in my life. Not anymore.”

“You don’t have to forgive him or want anything to do with him, you know. That’s not a crime,” El says. “We don’t owe our families any sort of obedience. You should only have a relationship with him on your terms. If he can’t accept that, then that’s his problem.”

Emotion wells up inside of him and Mike finds it hard to swallow, his throat feels so tight. He didn’t know how badly he needed that validation until El gave it to him. “Thanks,” he forces out, low and raspy. “Try explaining that to my mom, though.”

Mike hears El sigh as she leans back in her seat. “Sounds like she’s not taking this well.”

“Nope,” Mike says, popping the “p”. “That’s the worst part of all of this, really. My dad and I have been heading in this direction for probably my entire life. But my mom doesn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire.”

“Well, hopefully your mom will figure out that this is something you and your dad have to work out on your own. You’re a grown man. She can’t fight your battles or make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Mike smiles over at El, almost grateful beyond words for her support and insight. “You’re pretty good at this psychology stuff, you know that?”

El knocks Mike on the shoulder playfully with her knuckles, a soft punch that somehow _still_ sends a thrill through Mike with the feel of her touch. “Comes with the territory, as you well know.” El sighs, letting out a low chuckle. “But, just so you know, if being home with your family is too much with your dad and everything, you can always come and crash at my dad’s house for the rest of the weekend.”

“Your dad won’t mind?” Mike asks, eyebrow arched as he glances at her.

El grins at him, coy and knowing. “Not if I ask him nicely. Besides, I know he’s been wanting to meet you, if only out of curiosity.”

Mike snorts. “Well, me meeting your dad _has_ to go better than you meeting mine.”

El lets out a wry laugh. “Almost anything is better than what happened when I met your dad,” she says. “No offense, but your dad’s an asshole.”

“None taken,” Mike says. “Trust me, there’d be something was wrong with you if you _didn’t_ think that.”

If El has a response to that statement, it’s lost as “Uptown Funk” starts playing and she hurries to turn it up so she can sing along. It doesn’t take Mike long to find himself singing and laughing along with her, the car filling with the wondrous, beautiful cacophony of the combined noise.

In other words, it’s perfect.

So perfect that, when Mike pulls up in front of a small, ranch style home two hours later, he’s absolutely dreading having to face the rest of his drive in sad, lonely silence. He just never wants this to end. _Do I **have** to go home? Can’t I just stay here instead? _ Mike thinks as he puts the car into park. He glances up at El’s childhood home and his heart fills with longing. It looks so much more welcoming that the place waiting for him at the end of a 45 minute drive.

Sighing, Mike looks down at El, watching as she gathers her purse and jacket from the floor by her feet. She straightens, hand brushing errant strands of hair away from her face, and gives him a soft smile. “Hey, wanna come in for a bit, meet my dad? He’s home,” she says, pointing with her thumb at the non-descript sedan parked in the driveway. El’s smile turns wry. “Besides, I’m sure you probably want to stretch your legs a bit. We _have_ been in the car for 4 hours.”

It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long – time spent in El’s company _always_ feels like it goes by in the blink of an eye – but Mike knows El has a good point. “Yeah, sure,” he says with a shrug. “It’s not like I’m in any rush to get back to my parents’ house.”

El gives Mike a sympathetic look before she opens the car door. “Well, c’mon. I’m sure my dad’s noticed that we’ve pulled up and is counting the seconds it takes me to get inside.”

Mike laughs a little as he follows suit, unbuckling his seatbelt before stepping out of the car. “Would he do that?” Mike asks, shivering a bit as the cool, November air hits him in the face.

“So he can mock me with the information? Oh, _absolutely,_ ” El says with a giggle as she grabs her duffle bag from the backseat. “He never misses any opportunity to troll me. And, yet, somehow, I still love him.”

Mike chuckles as she leads them up the walkway. “How magnanimous of you,” he says, grinning as they approach the front step.

“I know, right?” The playful smile that El gives him is bright and blinding and it makes his heart do funny things as she reaches into her purse for her keys. Mike thinks it’s absolutely adorable that she still has her old house key on her keychain, both sentimental and practical at the same time.

El unlocks the door and steps inside, leaving Mike room to follow behind her. “Dad, I’m home! Also, Mike’s here if you wanna meet him!” she calls out as she steps off to one side so Mike can finish stepping over the threshold and into the entryway before she closes the front door behind them.

“You say that like you _know_ I wasn’t watching the both of you come in,” a deep, booming voice sounds off to somewhere on Mike’s right and, seconds later, one of the biggest men Mike’s ever seen comes walking through the doorway that leads off to one side of the house.

Mike can’t help the way his eyes widen, just a little, as El goes over to hug her gargantuan father, the sight almost comical given El’s diminutive stature. “Hi, Dad,” El says as Hopper wraps his arms around her tight.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” Hopper says, leaning to press a gentle kiss to the top of El’s head. “How was the drive?” he asks as the two separate, sliding easily out of each other’s embrace.

“It was good, not so bad,” El says. She glances over at Mike, a grin on her face. “I didn’t have to drive _and_ this one over here let me be in charge of the music.”

This is when Hopper looks over at Mike and, despite the very understandable frisson of fear that runs down Mike’s spine at having a large man, _who’s also a police detective,_ looking in his direction, Mike feels the beginnings of what can only be described as kinship with the mock mournful look on Hopper’s face. “I am so sorry for all you’ve had to put up with. My daughter has _horrible_ taste in music. I just don’t know where I went wrong.”

Mike can’t help but snicker as El glares. “Hey! Mike likes my taste in music, right?” She turns to look at Mike, all puppy-dog eyes and pouty lips.

Mike’s almost completely helpless against the onslaught, but he raises his hands disarmingly. “Hey, leave me out of this. I’m just a bystander.”

El’s pout only gets deeper. “I thought you were my friend, Mike.”

Mike snorts, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, but your dad carries a gun, El.”

At that, Hopper lets out a full belly laugh, head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, and Mike feels a little like he just passed a test he didn’t even know he was taking. “Ooh, good one, kid. Don’t let El walk all over you. That’s the first thing anyone needs to learn about being with her.” Hopper walks over to Mike, hand extended. “Nice to finally meet you face to face.”

Mike takes the offered hand and tries not to cringe at the strength of the grip as they shake hands. “Nice to meet you, too-” The word ‘sir’ sticks in his throat and Mike almost chokes on it as he remembers that Hopper asked not to be called that. “Um, nice to meet you, Hopper.”

Hopper gives Mike a knowing look, but thankfully doesn’t mention Mike’s near-slip of the tongue. “You wanna stick around a bit? I was going to throw together some lunch for me and El, but you’re welcome to stay, unless you’re eager to get home.”

It’s weird, really. Jim Hopper is a _very_ intimidating man – the same height as Mike, but twice as big, 6’3” of solid authority. Mike doesn’t think it would take any effort on Hopper’s part to squash him like a bug. But there’s something openly welcoming about Hopper. Yeah, it’s wrapped in an air of plain-spoken and mocking irreverence. But it’s undeniably there and now Mike _really_ doesn’t want to go back to Hawkins, not when he almost instantly feels at home in the presence of both Hoppers.

Mike shrugs, trying to go for nonchalant. “Not really in any sort of hurry to get home so, yeah, lunch sounds good. Thanks.”

Hopper lets out a dry laugh, the sound almost more of a bark. “Your old man’s still a tool, huh?”

It's absolutely the last thing Mike expects Hopper to say and he guffaws just as El lets out a shocked gasp. “Dad, don’t say that!”

Hopper rolls his eyes. “Please, we all know it’s true. You forget that I knew him growing up and, from what you’ve been telling me, Ellie, he’s only changed for the worst. Sanctimonious and uptight.” Hopper looks over at Mike, a curious look on his face. “Sound about right, Mike?”

Mike can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. “Hit the nail on the head.”

Hopper grins, all shit-eating and mischievous. It helps make him look less like a man who’s nearing 50 and more like he probably did in his youth. “See, Ellie? He’s not offended.”

El heaves a sigh, though Mike can tell it’s exaggerated. “I’m going to put my stuff upstairs. You two are horrible.”

“And yet you love us anyway!” Hopper calls after El as she disappears up the stairs, chuckling all the while. Hopper looks back over at Mike and jerks his head in the direction he came from earlier. “C’mon, kitchen’s this way. You like sandwiches?”

“Sandwiches are good,” Mike says as he follows Hopper through the house, taking in the dining room they pass through on their way to the kitchen. “But, really, I just like food.”

“With that height, I bet you do. Gotta fuel those limbs somehow. You ever play any sports?”

Mike grins as he watches Hopper go over to the refrigerator and start pulling out ingredients. “If you’re asking if I ever played basketball, the answer is ‘no’. I have the worst eye-hand coordination on the face of the planet. I was more of a swim team/cross-country kind of guy.”

“You still do either one of those?” Hopper asks over his shoulder.

It sparks a conversation about Mike’s running habits and the merits of running and swimming as forms of exercise and Mike’s story about the one time he tried training for a marathon that ended in horrible failure. El comes downstairs in the middle of Mike describing the blisters he developed while marathon training and she immediately pipes in with a “why do guys like talking about gross things” comment.

Everything just _flows_ from there, it seems. Hopper sets up an assembly line of ingredients so everyone can make their own sandwich and they eat them at the kitchen table, Hopper cracking open beers for everyone as they talk and laugh and just, in general, have a good time.

It’s a singular experience for Mike. He loves watching El interact with Hopper – the two of them have such an amusing back-and-forth that is infused with love and respect and Mike’s envy over El’s relationship with her dad has never been stronger. But he also loves how Hopper talks to him, too – respectfully teasing, open and honestly curious, sharp and smart (even though it’s clear how often he pretends to be dumb for either comedic effect or so people will underestimate him). Mike figures that all dads should be like Hopper and wishes Ted Wheeler was anywhere close to Hopper’s level. _I’d probably be a lot more well-adjusted,_ Mike thinks wryly.

The only moment of discomfort throughout the entire meal is when Hopper looks over at him with a smile sharp with mischief and asks, “So, Mike, is there anyone special in your life?” Hopper points at El with his thumb. “This one over here is notoriously tight-lipped when I ask her any questions.”

Mike’s hands freeze halfway to his mouth, sandwich clutched gently between his fingers, and he can’t stop his gaze from automatically going to El. She doesn’t notice – she’s too busy groaning and burying her face in one hand – but _Hopper_ does and Mike gulps under the knowing look. _Shit, **fuck**. _ “Dammit, Dad,” El sighs. “Why?”

Mike sets down his sandwich and clears his throat. The embarrassed blush on his face makes him feel too hot and he tries not to squirm under the intensity of the look Hopper’s giving him. “Um, no? I mean, I-” Mike cuts off, sighing half a second later. “Not at the moment, no.” He cringes at the incoherence of that response. _Great job not being awkward there, Wheeler._ Especially when the _actual_ answer to the question is “No, but I’d like it to be your daughter.”

“Dad, seriously,” El says as she lifts her head, her cheeks also flushed as she narrows her gaze at her dad. “And you wonder why I don’t introduce you to any of my friends when you clearly take so much pleasure in embarrassing the hell out of them.”

Hopper brushes aside El’s concern with an airy wave. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a perfect ray of sunshine and you know it.”

A sudden burst of laughter escapes from Mike and he claps a hand over his mouth, embarrassment building.

Hopper looks over at him and sighs. “Well, I see where _your_ allegiances lie.”

“Naturally,” El says archly. “Because he’s _my_ friend, not yours.”

Things devolve into father-daughter bickering, loving all throughout, and Mike lets himself fade into the background, happy to just be an observer. Besides, this gives him the chance to just _stare_ at El unnoticed while both her and Hopper are occupied by something else. She’s all brilliant smiles and sparkling eyes as she and her dad tease and bicker, quick witted without being cutting, and she shines _so bright._ Mike feels like a moth drawn to a flame when it comes to her and he doesn’t care if he gets burned. There’s literally nothing else in the world he’d love more.

But, as much as Mike just wants to always be by El’s side, he can’t stay here forever. Especially not when his mom texts him, asking him if he’s on his way. So Mike has no choice but to get back on the road, despite how much he doesn’t want to.

Mike says his goodbyes, with a handshake from Hopper and a gentle hug from El, and makes his promises to be back in a few days to pick up El before he gets back into his now very lonely car. It’s only 45 minutes from Indianapolis to Hawkins, but it feels like the longest journey of his life – longer, even, than the 4 hours he just drove earlier that morning.

And yet, at the same time, it feels like no time at all has passed before Mike’s pulling up in front of the Wheeler household, the two-story home looming in the view through the windshield.

Mike kills the engine and just _sits_ in the driver’s seat for a moment, postponing the inevitable for as long as possible. Home _should_ be somewhere he’s happy to be, but it’s been a long time since a) that’s been the case, and b) since Mike’s considered this to be home at all.

There’s another car parked out front, a rental from the look of it. Nancy’s, most likely, if Mike had to guess.

 _Wonder if Jonathan’s with her or if he’s back at Joyce’s?_ Mike thinks as he slowly extracts himself from the car. Nancy and Jonathan have been dating since their senior year of high school and they moved to New York together for college – him to NYU, her to Colombia – and they’re still going strong from what Mike can tell.

Naturally, Karen’s hints about any future nuptials are turning boulder-sized and almost impossible to ignore, but Nancy seems content to move at her own speed. It’s something Mike’s always admired about Nancy, how she’s always blazed her own trail despite the pressures from their parents. Mike wishes he’d gotten some of whatever bravery Nancy seems to have inherited (and Holly, as well, from the way her personality seems to be shaping up as she becomes a teenager). Maybe then, he’d be able to say something to El.

Or, at least, he could go inside his parents’ house without dragging his heels like a little kid who doesn’t want to go to school.

_You’re a 23-year old adult. **Act like it**. _

Mike squares his shoulders, grabs his stuff from his car, and heads towards the front door.

Like El, Mike still has a set of house keys for his childhood home, so he just lets himself in. “Mom? Nancy? I’m home!”

“In here, sweetheart!”

Mike drops his stuff just inside the front door and heads towards the sound of his mom’s voice. He finds both her and Nancy in the family room, both of them half-facing each other as the TV plays some daytime talk show or other. It’s obvious they’re mid-conversation, faces filled with gentle, relaxed smiles.

Mike doesn’t miss at all the way the smile on his mom’s face grows darker, tight and concerned and _nervous,_ but he chooses to focus on the way Nancy brightens as she hops up off the couch and all but bounds over to him. “Little brother!”

Mike rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling as he welcomes Nancy into a tight hug. “Um, I haven’t been ‘little’ since I was 13.”

“Psh, you’ll always be a little twerp to me,” Nancy says as she pulls back. “Doesn’t matter if you can masquerade as a beanstalk.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Mike grumbles. _Some things never change, it seems._ Still, Mike’s glad to see Nancy. After a rough handful of years while he was in middle school and she was in high school, they’ve been able to figure out how to be friends as adults. It definitely helps that they don’t live under the same roof anymore, where the infamous Wheeler stubbornness they both inherited in droves can’t clash head-to-head on a regular basis. They talk on the phone every couple of weeks or so, conversations filled with long, intellectual debates and catching each other up on the news in each other’s lives.

Nancy’s also the only person who knows about how he feels about El...mostly because he can’t seem to hide _anything_ from her. “Mike, are you in love with her?” she’d asked him about a month ago. Mike had been telling her about something he and El had been doing and he clearly hadn’t been able to keep his feelings out of his voice.

“That obvious, huh?” Mike had said after a spluttering moment, sighing as he realized the jig was up.

“Mike, _really._ You’re just about the most transparent person I’ve ever met when it comes to your feelings.”

From there, everything just _poured_ out of him, relief rushing through him as if the very act of giving his feelings voice was an absolution. The best part was that Nancy hadn’t made fun of him or told him he was wrong for falling in love with his roommate. Instead, she’d given him advice, supporting him in figuring out his way through this. “You should tell her,” Nancy had said. “You can’t keep this bottled up forever and it’s only going to get worse. I know it’s scary, but you’ll honestly feel better once you get it off your chest.”

Though he knows Nancy is right, Mike still isn’t entirely sure he has the ability to carry out her advice. Again, he’s not as brave as she is...and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be.

Out of the corner of Mike’s eye, he can see his mom getting to her feet and Mike goes over to her, giving her a hug as well. “Hi, Mom.”

“Welcome home, Mike,” Karen says, the words quiet against his ear. “You hungry? You’ve been on the road for a while, I’m sure.”

Mike shakes his head as they pull away. “No, I’m good. Had lunch when I dropped off El at her dad’s house.”

There’s a tremulous note to the smile Karen gives him in response to the statement, shaky and unsure, and Mike can’t help but wonder what’s going on in his mom’s head. He’ll find out sooner rather than later, he’s sure, but until then, it’s a question worth pondering.

There’s a buzzing sound and Mike watches as Nancy reaches into the pocket of her jeans for her phone. “Ooh, it’s Jon calling. Be right back,” Nancy says before she slips from the room, fast and sylph-like, leaving him and his mom alone.

“Where’s Holly?” Mike asks. He doesn’t bother asking after his dad. There’s only one other place Ted Wheeler could possibly be in the middle of a weekday and that’s at the office.

“At a friend’s house. She’ll be home for dinner,” Karen says with an assured wave of her hand, the sign of a parent who trusts in the system of friends and parents that surround her youngest child.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Mike says and immediately cringes a little at just how awkward and trite that sounded.

But Karen doesn’t seem to notice as she grabs Mike by the arm, her grip gentle, and guides him towards the kitchen. “While I have the chance, I’d like to talk to you about something,” she says in a quiet voice.

Dread crawls into Mike’s stomach. “What about, Mom?”

Karen gives him a look, like he should know. And he kinda does, but the part of him that’s vindictive wants to hear her say it. “I want you to be civil to your father while you’re home.” Mike opens his mouth to argue or complain, he’s not entirely sure which, but Karen holds up a hand and Mike feels his mouth snapping shut. “I’m not asking you to forgive him – lord knows I’ve tried over these past couple of months with nothing to show for it and I don’t want to get into it again right now. I know you’re still angry at him and nothing I can say will make you change your mind. Just….” She trails off in a sigh and Mike waits. “Just please, can we have a nice Thanksgiving where we at least act like a family?”

The dread in Mike’s stomach turns to apprehension and his brow furrows. He knows what his mom’s asking him – to pretend like nothing is wrong, that the Wheelers are one big happy family. But given everything that’s happened over the past couple of months, and the realization that Mike doesn’t have to pretend to be fine if he doesn’t want to, Mike’s initial reaction is to roll his eyes and tell his mom to forget it.

But Karen’s looking at him like her very survival relies on him agreeing to this farce and Mike can’t find it in him to say no. Not when her pain and anxiety are broadcast for the entire world to see. “Ok, fine,” he sighs. “I’ll play nice. But he has to do the same, ok? Can he do that?”

Karen nods, almost _too_ relieved. “Yes, I’ve already talked to him about this. Don’t worry. He’ll behave.”

 

* * *

  
Ted Wheeler doesn’t behave, though.

Mike’s not entirely surprised. His dad has never really been good at following orders from people he doesn’t respect and Mike _knows_ his dad doesn’t respect his mom. Just the way he’s treated her for what’s felt like Mike’s entire life is proof enough of that.

It’s still sad, though, when his dad doesn’t so much as _look_ at him during dinner that first night home, never mind speak to him. Mike’s keenly aware of the looks both Holly and Nancy are giving him under the icy atmosphere, but Mike is honestly ok with this. In fact, his dad ignoring him the entire time he’s back in Hawkins suits Mike just fine. Means he doesn’t have to try and talk to his dad at all and run the risk of saying something he might regret.

Still, it does hurt a little whenever his dad’s gaze slides over him like he’s not there, or when everyone reacts to something Mike says _except_ for his dad. But it’s an old hurt, born from a lifetime of being ignored and misunderstood by his dad, so it doesn’t bother Mike. Hell, it’s just par for the course, as far as he’s concerned.

After dinner, Mike heads up to his room to escape while his dad parks himself in the family room (on that goddamn La-Z-Boy, nonetheless). He curls up in bed with his laptop and wishes the entire time he was back home in Chicago, in his own apartment, in his own room, with people who _actually_ love and care about him.

(Not that his mom or his sisters don’t love or care about him – it’s just that his friends _understand_ him in a way his family just _doesn’t._ )

At some point in the evening, not long after Mike holes up in his room, the door opens and Holly pokes her head through. “Hey, you got a sec?” she asks, dark blonde hair swaying about her face as she leans in through the crack in the doorway.

Mike smiles, still marveling that his baby sister is _13 years old_ (where does the time go?), and waves her in. “Yeah, Holls, what’s up?”

Holly opens the door enough so she can slip inside and she leans against the doorframe, hands tucked in the small of her back. “Everything’s shit with you and Dad right now, isn’t it?”

Mike sighs and sets aside his laptop. “Yeah, it is. Mom tell you anything about it?”

Holly shakes her head. “No one ever tells me _anything_ around here,” she says with a roll of her eyes, shoulders slumping. “It’s so annoying.”

Mike cringes. He knows he could have done something about that – could have talked to her more often since he moved to Chicago – and now that she’s a teenager, maybe it’ll be easier to actually do that. Because Mike remembers being 13 and feeling like no one treated him like an adult, an _equal,_ and it really sucked. “Sorry about that,” Mike says.

Holly shrugs, one shoulder lifting almost dismissively, but Mike can see the hurt lingering beneath the gesture. “It’s ok. Just...what is going on? Dad’s pretending like you don’t even exist and if Mom smiles that ‘everything’s fine’ smile any more, her face is gonna freeze that way.”

“You remember when Mom and Dad came out to visit me a couple of months ago?” Mike asks, one eyebrow raising just slightly. When Holly nods, he continues. “Well, they took me and my roommate out to dinner and Dad horribly insulted her – my roommate, that is.” Mike sighs. “It was bad, Holly. Like, _really_ bad. My roommate stormed out and Dad said some really, _really_ awful things, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped at him and left.”

Holly cringes. “What did he say?”

Memories of that night flash in his mind’s eye, his dad’s voice echoing in his head. _Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? – Women like that are nothing but trouble: rude and ungrateful. – Fuck her, if she lets you, but, dear god, don’t fall for her._

Mike’s stomach churns at the memory and he frowns. “Nothing I want to repeat. Part of the problem is that I think Dad doesn’t approve that my roommate is a girl and, as it turns out, her dad grew up with Mom and Dad, and our dad doesn’t think too highly of _her_ dad.” He lets out a groaning sigh. “It’s all a mess, Holly. But I’m tired of him treating people this way and I don’t want to have to accept it anymore.”

Holly bites her lip. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I hate bringing my friends over because he says stupid, horrible shit all the time. Honestly, I prefer it when he’s working late and doesn’t come home.” She glances down at her feet for just a moment, eyes filled with soft sympathy beyond her years when she looks back up at him. “I’m sorry, Mikey.”

Mike shrugs, but he can’t stop the warmth from spreading in his chest at the sentiment, his love for his sister temporarily crowding out everything else. “It’ll be ok. Even if I never talk to Dad again until he apologizes.”

Holly lets out a snort. “Yeah, pigs might fly first.” Her eyes light up and her head cocks to one side as a grin spreads across her lips. “Wait, did you say your roommate is a girl? Mike, are you _living in sin?_ ”

“What? No!” Mike all but squawks. “I needed a roommate, I posted an ad online, and she was the person who answered.” He narrows his eyes at his little sister. “Where did you hear that phrase, anyway?”

Holly arches an eyebrow. “What, ‘living in sin’? It was in one of those historical romance movies Mom likes. Besides, I’m 13, not _5._ ”

“Sorry, my mistake,” Mike says with a roll of his eyes.

Holly comes over to his bed and sits down heavily next to him. “You should be sorry,” she says. “So, is she pretty? Your roommate?”

“Why does everyone want to know that?” Mike asks, even as he’s reaching for his phone.

“Um, because you have no luck with girls and it would be just your luck to have a gorgeous roommate?” Holly slings back.

By this point, Mike’s unlocked his phone and found a picture that El texted him a couple of weeks ago, a selfie she took of them when they were hanging out with the rest of the Party at dinner. “Here, decide for yourself.”

Holly takes the phone from Mike and lets out a snorting laugh. “Aww, look, it’s Beauty and the Dork.” She hands back the phone, looking over at Mike. “Seriously, though, she’s really pretty. Do you like her?”

Because Mike’s laughably transparent, he doesn’t even try to hide it. “Unfortunately, yes. Makes it really difficult to live with her sometimes, but I can’t stop it.”

“Ouch, that sucks,” Holly says with a cringe. “Well, I hope you figure it out. Ideally with a happy ending.”

Mike gives Holly a grateful smile. “Yeah, me too. Though I don’t think I’m that kind of lucky.”

Holly leaves not long after, but Mike’s still worrying over what he told her, that he’s not that kind of lucky. The universe has so rarely been on his side. Yeah, there’s been some hints, _maybe,_ that El might feel something for him – or, at least, isn’t completely turned off to the idea, given how open and touch-feely she is with him – but Mike knows the second he starts to believe in it, to believe that she maybe loves him the same way he loves her, it’ll all turn out to be an empty hope that’ll leave him heart-broken and despondent.

But that’s a problem for a different day. First, Mike just has to survive Thanksgiving.

It’s too bad, then, that he only makes it halfway through dinner.

 

* * *

  
It’s surprisingly easy to pack up all your things when you never really unpacked in the first place.

Mike can’t keep his hands from trembling as he shoves the clothes he was wearing yesterday into his duffle bag, every muscle in his body tight with barely controlled anger. And beneath it all, a deep well of hurt, the creation of a lifetime of disappointment and neglect. It pulls on his heart, twisting and squeezing, and Mike feels like he’s on the verge of losing it entirely.

The high-pitched rub of the zipper of his duffle bag closing sounds overly harsh to his ears, filled with a finality that sends minor warning bells ringing in the back of his mind. _If you leave now, you might not ever be able to come back,_ they say.

Mike grits his teeth, lips pinched in a tight line. _Fine by me._

Footsteps approach the open door of his bedroom, pausing just inside the doorway. “Mike, please, don’t do this.” His mom, begging, _pleading._  A hand hooks into the crook of his elbow to stop him, slow him down as he tries to wrestle his laptop into his backpack.

And then his laptop slides into his backpack the rest of the way, allowing Mike to turn to look at his mom. “Why, Mom, _why?_ ” His mom steps back as he whirls around, almost startled by the speed of the motion. “It’s clear I’m not wanted here. Not by _him,_ at any rate.”

Karen’s lower lip trembles, eyes misting over with tears. “No, Mike, that’s not true. He’s just been under a lot of stress, lately. He doesn’t mean it.”

Mike scoffs and shakes his head. “No, Mom, he does. The things he said….” He trails off, eyes closing as the memory of not 10 minutes ago assaults him, his dad’s voice echoing in his mind. _I haven’t paid thousands of dollars for you to become a **teacher** – Didn’t know any son of mine could be so worthless – That’s right, run away like a coward, back to your coddling friends and that **woman** you’re letting walk all over you. Too bad you can’t be more like your older sister. Just don't come running back when you fail._

Mike opens his eyes and looks at his mom with a heavy heart. “Mom, we both know stress can’t make people say things they don’t mean. He doesn’t respect me – hell, I don’t even know if he _loves_ me. But I do know that I don’t have to stay somewhere where I’m going get treated like this. I love you, Mom, and I love Nancy and Holly, but until Dad can at least act civil and respect my choices, I don’t want to be here.”

“Mike, no, just...let’s go downstairs and talk-”

Mike shoulders his backpack and grabs his duffle bag. “Mom, _no._ I need to go. I’ll call you later, once I get home.” He pushes past his mom and into the hallway, refusing to look back. If he does, if he sees the broken look he knows is on his mom’s face, he might not have the strength to leave.

Nancy and Holly are standing at the bottom of the stairs as Mike comes down them, both of them looking up mid-conversation. Mike meets both of their gazes and watches the realization cross over their faces. “Heading out, huh?” Nancy says, stepping forward for a hug. “Don’t blame you.”

“Yeah, I can’t stay here. Not with _him._ ” Mike says, hugging her back before he moves to hug Holly.

“Dad’s full of shit,” Holly says. “You’re not worthless.”

Mike gives Holly a small smile as he steps back. Sadness fills him – he really doesn’t want to ditch his family, doesn’t want to leave Nancy, Holly, and his mom in this house with his dad in what’s probably a really bad mood. But Mike won’t stay here any longer – he just won’t.

It hits him as he’s in the car, inserting the key into the ignition, that he has no idea where he’s going to go. None of his friends are in Hawkins and he can’t go home back to Chicago yet – not when he still needs to give El a ride home from Indianapolis in a couple of days.

_El._

The offer El made him in the car yesterday comes roaring back into the forefront of his mind and Mike’s reaching for his phone before he’s even fully aware that he’s doing so. It takes only a couple of taps on the screen before he’s calling her and Mike listens to the call ring as he waits for El to pick up.

And when she does, her voice soft in his ear over the distance that separates them. “Mike, everything ok?”

Mike sighs and lets his head fall back against the seat’s headrest. “Hey, remember when you said if I needed to, I could come over to your house? Well….”

 

* * *

  
The 45-minute drive from Hawkins to Indianapolis is enough time for the immediate anger to fade, giving room for melancholy that leaves him feeling tired and hollow.

In an ideal world, Mike would be enjoying a holiday dinner with his family, the people closest to him. In an ideal world, he would have a dad who loves him and a mom who understands and supports him. Instead, he’s running away, making a stand in the only way he can think of against a father who doesn’t respect him, who it sometimes feels like is holding the rest of the family hostage.

But at least he has somewhere to go as he flees, somewhere to run _to._

The sun’s barely still out when Mike parks in front of the Hopper household, but it’s still light enough for Mike to see as he gathers his things from the backseat of his car and makes his way to the front door of the house. He rings the doorbell and finds his arms automatically crossing over his chest, hunching over a little. Mike knows he’s probably the most pathetic thing on the face of the planet – backpack and duffel bag haphazardly tossed on his shoulders, practically hugging himself as he waits for someone to take him in off the street. God, why can’t life ever seem to go his way?

The door opens a moment later and all other concerns are temporarily banished to the back of his head. Because El’s standing there, wearing jeans and a soft, dark teal sweater, hair half pulled up, as she greets him with a small, but warm smile.

 _God, she’s a sight for sore eyes._ It’s barely been over 24 hours since he last saw her, but that’s way too long for Mike’s liking. Just _looking_ at her is a balm for his tortured soul and Mike’s beyond grateful that she opened up her family’s home for him to seek refuge in.

“Hey, you made it,” El says, her voice low and gentle. She pulls the door open all the way and steps towards him, arms held out invitingly.

Mike gladly goes to her and lets himself all but fall into the hug she’s offering him. A roller coaster of emotions races inside of him – sadness, relief, love, guilt – and he has to swallow down the lump that forms in his throat as his emotions all but overwhelm him.

But the feel of her in his arms, albeit in a friendly manner, helps keep the full force of _everything_ at bay, calming and grounding him even as his soul sings with her closeness. He just can’t help it – he _loves_ her and the way he reacts to her simple touch and gesture is beyond his control.

El pulls away first and steps aside so Mike can walk in through the open front door. “Here, you can just set your stuff down here. We’re still getting things ready for dinner.”

El’s words makes Mike freeze, his backpack hanging halfway off his shoulders, duffle bag dangling awkwardly in his hand. “Oh, um, you don’t have to – I can just – I don’t want to impose-”

“Mike, don’t be silly,” El says, cutting him off. She grabs the duffle bag from his loose grip and sets it down on the ground. The act prompts Mike into finishing setting his backpack down, even though there’s absolutely nothing he can do about the way he’s staring dumbly down at her. “I wouldn’t have invited you over just to exclude you. That’s just rude. Besides, the holidays usually end up just being me and my dad, so having someone else here is a very welcome change.”

Mike’s brow furrows. “Are you sure? I don’t mind giving you and your dad-”

El cuts Mike off again, but this time by placing her hand low on his shoulder practically on his chest. Her palm is _so warm_ through the fabric of his shirt and it makes his heart skip a beat. God, he hopes she can’t feel the pounding of his heart beneath her touch. “Mike, _stop._ I want you here, ok? I like spending time with you and you are never imposing or in the way or anything like that.” El follows her statement with a pointed look that makes Mike’s stomach swoop with how both beautiful and cutting it is (honestly, is it wrong that he finds it hot when she looks so authoritative and _confident?_ Well, if it’s wrong, he sure as hell doesn’t want to be right).

Mike has no choice, it seems, but to bow to the conviction in El’s voice and he does so gladly. So he smiles, barely containing the giddy laughter that bubbles up inside of him and threatens to burst free. “Ok, ok, you win.”

El sniffs, all prim and airy. “Good.” She breaks character a moment later, grinning mischievously, eyes twinkling like she’s some sort of trickster nymph. “Now, come hang out with me while I make fun of my dad as he tries to make mashed potatoes.”

Mike follows El into the kitchen, hot on her heels like he’s tethered to her by a short leash (and maybe he is; god, it feels like he can’t even tell anymore where he ends and she begins anymore and _they aren’t even more than friends)._ The house is filled with the smells of Thanksgiving – cooking turkey, melted butter, potatoes baking – and the smell hits Mike both in the heart _and_ the stomach. He’d only eaten part of his mom’s Thanksgiving dinner before the conversation took a disastrous turn and prompted Mike to flee, so he’s still hungry.

But, also, the smells in the Hopper kitchen are almost exactly the same as the Wheeler kitchen, all homey and welcoming and warm, that it twists as his heart with a poignancy that almost brings tears to his eyes. Though, it helps that the Hopper kitchen is way more of a disaster zone than his mom’s kitchen is. Karen Wheeler has elevated holiday cooking to an art form, everything perfect and in its place, no dish out of turn, orderly and planned.

By contrast, the mess left behind by El and Hopper as they make dinner resembles more the aftermath of a hurricane than two people attempting to make a meal together. But there’s a charm to it all its own – reflections of an all-out effort – that makes Mike smile even as he’s cringing a little at the work it’s going to take to clean it up later.

“Hey, Dad, look what the cat dragged in!” El announces as she and Mike enter the kitchen.

Hopper’s standing at the stove and he looks over his shoulder, grin wide with kindness reflected in his eyes. “Wheeler, fancy seeing you again so soon!” Hopper announces, almost too jovial. Mike appreciates the effort, though, knowing how he’s imposing on what should be a family gathering. “Drive over ok?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Mike says, clearing his throat. “Thanks, by the way, for letting me come over.”

Hopper turns away from the stove, potato masher in hand as he uses it to gesticulate. “Eh, no worries. I know how much family can suck during the holidays.” He approaches Mike as El lets out a soft “hey!” under her breath. “But if you mash the mashed potatoes, we’ll call it even.”

El lets out a long-suffering groan and Mike looks over in time to see her rolling her eyes, even as he’s taking the potato masher from Hopper. “Ugh, _Dad,_ that’s supposed to be _your_ job!”

“Hey, never pass up an opportunity when it comes your way, I always say,” Hopper says.

“But he’s our guest!” El says as she goes over to the oven to check on the turkey, opening the door all the way a moment later. “We shouldn’t make guests work.”

It’s Hopper’s turn to roll his eyes. “Hey, my house, my rules. Deal with it.” Hopper looks over at Mike while, in the background, El’s taking the turkey out of the oven. “You want a beer? I think El’s chilling wine for dinner, but there’s no rules about pre-gaming, am I right?”

“Dad,” El says, warning in her voice. “Don’t get him drunk.”

“Right,” Hopper says through a snort. “From what you told me, he deserves to get drunk.” He looks back at Mike, sympathy in his gaze. “Sorry about your father. El was telling me a little about it on your way over. Just so you know, he’s always been an asshole, not that it probably makes you feel any better.”

Mike lets out a laugh that is part way to a sob, a little frantic and almost out of control. “Thanks,” he says weakly. “It’s not the first time he’s been like this, but it’s definitely one of the first times I’ve stood up to him like this.”

Hopper claps Mike on the shoulder, an approving smile on his face. “Well, have a beer, have some food, and forget all about your dad for the night. Because fuck Ted Wheeler, the sanctimonious asshole that he is.”

It helps, a little, hearing someone else, especially someone his dad’s age, disapprove of his dad’s behavior, and Mike finds that he can’t stop smiling as he takes over Hopper’s job of making mashed potatoes (even as he’s cringing at just how lumpy they are by the time he gets to them – _he can totally fix this, he knows he can)._

The family dinner he sits down to a little while later, that he’s lucky enough to be a part of, is one of the most relaxed affairs he’s ever been a part of.  Formality isn’t really a thing at the Hopper dinner table, even though El insists on pouring everyone a glass of white wine she’s been chilling. There’s salad and turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes – all simple and all delicious – and Mike finds himself going for seconds because it’s just too good not to.

And the entire time, he’s watching El and Hopper again for the second day in a row, marveling over the easy back-and-forth of the father-daughter relationship and wishing fervently that he could have something like it with one of his parents. But he knows that’s practically impossible; there’s just too much history between him and his parents and it makes him unbearably sad that he’ll never get to experience what this feels like as anything more than an observer.

Still, Mike’s able to ignore the quiet melancholy that seeps in around the edges and focuses on eating good food and having a good time. And once everyone’s eaten pie, a delicious apple pie that El made earlier that day, Mike’s just about on the edge of being too full, and he’s happier than he feels like he’s been in a very long time.

Hopper lets out a sigh and rests his hand on his stomach. “Honey, that was fantastic,” he says, looking over at El. “Great job on the pie, as always.”

“Yeah, El,” Mike echoes, smiling over at her, the pleased look that blossoms on her face warming him almost as much as the food and alcohol he just consumed has. “It was really, _really_ good.”

El blushes, glancing down at the table, all demure and shy, before she looks back up at both him and her dad. “Thanks, but don’t forget, Dad, you helped. So it wasn’t all me.”

Hopper nods over at El in concession. “Fair point.” He sighs again and gives El a look. “Hey, you wanna go get the guest room set up? I don’t think the sheets up there have been changed in months.”

El frowns. “What about the dishes?” she asks, glancing behind her in the direction of the kitchen.

Hopper waves her aside. “Mike and I can handle that, right Mike?” Hopper looks over at Mike, a grin pulling up at the corners of his mouth.

Mike feels his own eyebrows arching with uncertainty. “Did you just volunteer me for work?” he asks, grinning back.

“Hey, everyone pulls their own weight around here. Just being a guest doesn’t excuse you,” Hopper says.

“Ugh, _Dad,_ ” El groans.

Mike just laughs, though, and nods over at Hopper. “Yeah, I guess I can help clean up.”

Everyone gets up, groaning as they do so, and El disappears upstairs to get the guest room ready while Hopper and Mike stay downstairs to tackle the kitchen.

Mike looks over at Hopper as they gather up the dishes from the table. “Thanks, again, for letting me stay. I know I’ve said it already, but I just really appreciate it. You didn’t have to open up your home to me, especially on a day like today, and you did and, well...thank you.”

Hopper shrugs as they set the dishes down on the counter to start rinsing them off before placing them in the dishwasher. “Hey, everyone deserves to have somewhere to go during the holidays.” He looks over at Mike. “And, besides, it’s El you should be thanking. She was the one who tried to twist my arm to get me to say yes to you coming over.”

Mike laughs. “She’s stubbornly persistent when she wants to be.”

“That she is,” Hopper says, full of parental, if amused, pride. “Especially when it comes to people she likes.”

Mike’s heart does a weird flip at hearing Hopper say that El likes him, skin buzzing with a warmth that makes him want to smile uncontrollably. But he keeps a handle on it as he passes plates over to Hopper. “Well, she’s an amazing friend and I’m lucky to have her in my life.”

Silence falls over them and, for a few moments, there’s nothing but the sounds of running water and clinking plates.

And then Hopper starts speaking, the dishes on hold as he looks over at Mike. “Look, I know it’s none of my business whatever’s going on between the two of you – like I told you earlier, El’s really tight-lipped about a lot of things – but I know she really cares about you.”

Hopper steps back, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, seeming not to care that his hands are wet from the dish water. The look on Hopper’s face is serious, but not unkind, born more from concern than anything. “I know she’s told you about what happened to her when she was a kid, so you know the kind of shit she’s lived through. So you’ll understand me when I say that she doesn’t let people in easily; that kind of thing makes it hard to trust people. But she trusts you and, well...whatever happens, don’t break her heart, ok?”

For a moment, Mike can only stare wide-eyed back at Hopper, breath caught in his throat and heart racing in his chest. _Wait, Hopper’s not saying that she...no, he **can’t** be, can he? _ Hope rushes in, filling him and tangling wildly with everything that’s happened to him over the past 24 hours, and Mike finds that he can’t breathe. God, he wants to believe so badly, wants to take the scrap of proof Hopper’s just offered to him and let it consume him. Because if anyone would know what El’s really feeling, it would be her dad, right?

_Right?_

It hits him a nanosecond later that Hopper’s looking at him, waiting for a response. Mike gulps and tries to smile, but afraid it must look like he’s cringing. “Ok, I won’t. Promise.” Mike’s throat still feels tight, so the words come out in a croak. But he manages to get them out somehow.

Hopper smiles at him, the expression small and relieved. “That’s all I ask of you. Thanks, kid.”

Hopper goes back to doing the dishes like nothing has changed, like everything’s fine. But Mike feels like everything has just been upended and he’s almost numb as he helps Hopper with the rest of the dishes, his thoughts spinning wildly with confused hope.

God, it feels like he can barely breathe. Air, he needs air. Right now.

Mike hastily dries his hands off on his pants and reaches for his phone, for an _excuse._ “Hey, um, Hopper? I should probably call my mom, let her know I’m somewhere. Is there somewhere quiet I can call her?”

Mike must be giving away something of his thoughts and turmoil on his face, because Hopper gives Mike a gentle smile and points in the direction of the patio door just off the kitchen. “Yeah, there’s a porch swing out there if you don’t mind the cold. Nice and quiet, though.”

“Great, thanks,” Mike says with a tight smile and practically bolts for the patio door so he can step outside and away to somewhere where he can have a quiet moment, gather his thoughts.

Only he’s still holding his phone, so he supposes he should call his mom, let her know he’s alive or something. He did say, after all, that he’d call her when he got home.

_Well, it’s not home, but…._

Mike sits down roughly on the porch swing, the chains creaking a bit with the sudden burden, but they hold and Mike gently swings himself back and forth as he looks down at his phone screen. He chickens out a few moments later and sends his mom a text, letting her know that he’s with a friend. And once he hits send and he’s sure it delivered, Mike rushes to turn off his phone, not wanting to deal with whatever response his mom is going to reply with. He just can’t right now. Not with everything else going on in his head.

Mike groans and leans over, feet planted on the ground, elbows perched on his knees, so he can bury his face in his hands. The air outside is cool, but it helps give Mike something to anchor himself to, something _tangible_ he can focus on.

 _God, this day has been too much,_ Mike thinks. His heart feels pulled in a million directions, up and down, twisting endlessly. First his dad, and then El, and then Hopper...it’s been an honest-to-god roller coaster and Mike doesn’t know how much more he can handle right now.

And then, from behind him, the patio door opens, sliding heavily on worn tracks. Mike turns and his heart leaps into his throat to see El coming out onto the porch, a gentle smile on her face. “Hey, Dad said you were calling your mom. Everything ok there?”

Mike shrugs and he gives her a humorless smile. “Chickened out and texted her instead. Couldn’t bring myself to call her.”

El frowns and closes the patio door before coming over to him. Mike scoots over a bit so El has room to sit down and he watches as she sits so that she’s facing him, one leg folded in front of her while the other dangles off the edge, toes brushing against the ground. “You never did tell me what happened today,” she says, her voice quiet. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Mike really doesn’t, but he can’t resist the gentle pleading in her eyes, soft and warm and just so _inviting._ He thinks, sometimes, she could ask for _anything_ and he would give it to her. “It’s so dumb,” Mike says, leaning back so he’s half slumped on the swing, head tipping back so he can look up at the awning. “Nancy asked me about how my thesis is going and we started talking about what I was planning on doing after graduation. So, my mom asked me what my plans were for after I’m done with school and I told her about what you and I talked about – you know, about me becoming a lecturer? And my dad just _lost_ it.”

“What’d he say?”

Mike closes his eyes and he can so easily his dad’s voice again, disapproving and mean, echoing in his head, and it brings a lump of tears creeping up into his throat, making it hard to breathe. “He pretty much said me becoming a teacher was a waste of his money and that I’m worthless and that I shouldn’t come crawling to him when I fail.” Mike takes in a deep breath and lets the hurt he’s feeling fill his chest. “Sometimes, I wonder if he’s right.”

“Mike, _no,_ ” El says. The porch swing tilts a bit and the feel of a hand grabbing his makes him jerk upright, eyes opening so he can look over at El. She’s scooted closer to him, holding his hand tight in hers, her fingers warm and delicate where they’re entwining with his. “Don’t ever say that. You’re not worthless, you’re just not.” She gulps audibly and glances down for just a brief moment before she looks back at him, eyes full of quiet determination. “You’re nice and smart and funny. You’re a great teacher to the students you TA, and you’re an even better friend to the Party. You’re my best friend, Mike, and I just-” Her voice grows thick with emotion. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you that you’re worthless. Because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

It feels like Mike’s heart has stopped beating entirely and he seems to have completely forgotten how to breathe as he looks at El. His mouth is slightly agape, lips parted in shock, and he feels like he could just float away under the sheer, overwhelming power of El’s words. And, _god,_ she looks so beautiful right now, staring up at him with wide, expressive eyes, gaze filled with warmth and caring, while a blush crawls high across her cheeks.

And then it seems to hit El what she just said, because she bites her lip, a little embarrassed, and looks down at their joined hands. But she doesn’t make a move to put any distance between them, to pull away, and Mike finds himself shifting closer to her, like he’s caught in her gravity, unable to escape as he crashes into her at terminal velocity. He pauses, inches away, every inch of him tingling like countless fluttering butterflies have taken residence beneath his skin. “El? Did you mean that?”

She looks up and, though her eyes widen like she’s shocked at just how close they are, she doesn’t look away, doesn’t so much as do anything to make him think that she wants to be anywhere other than right here, next to him. “Every word,” she says, just above a whisper.

She’s so close, looking at him with naked affection, bright and beautiful, and Mike can’t take it anymore. The urge to lean towards her and kiss her has never been stronger, never been harder to ignore.

So he doesn’t.

Mike gives in to the urge that’s been pulling at him for weeks, leaning towards her as easily as breathing. He moves slow, giving her every opportunity to pull back, to stop him. But, as his eyes slide shut, he hears her gasp, a sound as light and delicate as the beat of a hummingbird’s wing. He can feel her warmth so close to him, the stuttering exhale of her breath against his mouth and he swears, in the moment before his lips touch hers, that she squeezes his hand all the tighter….

And then the patio door opens behind them, the world rushing back in with shocking clarity. Mike jumps, sitting back up and looking over at the patio door so fast, it almost makes him dizzy _(though that could just be how close he came to kissing el and his heart cries with the disappointment, his lips aching from being denied the pleasure of pressing against hers)._

Hopper’s standing there, looking blissfully unaware of the moment he just interrupted, and annoyance zips through Mike, dissatisfaction burning deep in his stomach. “Hey, I was gonna put a movie in. You guys wanna join?” Hopper asks.

El scoots back and slips her hand gently from Mike’s. “Yeah, Dad, that sounds good,” she says, the words a little shaky, and, if Mike’s not mistaken, she sounds as disappointed as he feels. Mike looks over at her as she looks back and his heart thumps wildly in his chest at the sight of her, smiling over at him, eyes bright and shining with what looks like hope and happiness, mixing with the wry disbelief playing on the edges of her expression. “Sound good to you?” she asks.

It’s clear that whatever moment had transpired between Mike and El has passed, but if the look in El’s eyes is any indication, it’s a temporary reprieve, and Mike smiles at her, feeling lighter than he has in _weeks._ Yes, his chance at finally being able to find out what it feels like to kiss El Hopper may have vanished in the wind, the moment killed by her dad in what is probably one of the most frustrating turns his life has ever taken.

But Mike knows, _just knows,_ that he’ll get another chance.

And next time, he won’t let anything get in the way.

But El’s waiting for a reply and, well, Mike doesn’t want to keep her waiting any longer. So, he smiles at her. “Yeah, El. Sounds good.”

_Anything for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I'm evil and _I LOVE IT_.
> 
> Also, I'm not entirely love with this chapter - don't exactly know why. But it's not sitting the best with me.
> 
> Anyway, regardless, I hope you all enjoyed it and thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry this took so long, fam - I got side tracked with a whole other one-shot for, like, a few days there, _plus_ this last chapter clocked in at nearly 24k words. So I think I'm forgiven for taking a couple of weeks to get this out.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's joined me on this very silly ride and I honestly hope you all enjoy the finale!
> 
> (Tho, warning: buckle in because it's gonna get a little wild. We're talking Tension City here folks, almost all of it awkward....)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (also, apologies for any typos; i'm rushing out the door and didn't have time to do spelling edits, but i wanted to post this before i'm out for the night. i'll come back later and clean it up when i have time.)

Technically speaking, El’s watching a movie.

 _In theory,_ at least.

Oh sure, it _looks_ like she’s watching a movie. She’s sitting on the couch – Mike to her right on the other end, her dad in an armchair off to her left – and she’s even facing the TV.

But she’s not watching the movie.

Hell, El doesn’t even know _what_ movie her dad put on, she’s paying that little attention to it. It’s some sort of action-y type movie that she _swears_ she’s seen before, but can’t for the life of her remember the title or the plot or _anything._

Because El’s way too preoccupied with the man sitting not two feet away from her and trying _desperately_ not to stare at him. Or, worse, _pounce_ on him.

It’s so hard to resist, though. El can feel Mike next to her like an itch she can’t scratch, every inch of her alive with tingles that dance up and down her skin like gentle raindrops. God, it would be the easiest thing in the world to reach for him. He’s so close that she could touch him by simply extending her arm.

But El keeps her hands to herself. Because if she doesn’t, she won’t just touch him – she’ll finish what Mike started out on the porch swing.

And El’s _not_ about to have her first kiss with Mike be in front of her dad.

 _God, their first kiss._ Not the only, but the first of many kisses – _countless_ kisses, even.

_Her and Mike._

A thrill runs down El’s spine and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like a lovesick fool. Her eyes slip shut, she draws in a gentle breath, and she lets her mind carry her back to that moment on the porch, just for a moment. Warmth spreads through her veins, pooling in her stomach, as she remembers….

_(mike’s hand in hers, his face inches away, getting closer with each passing second, his breath ghosting against her cheeks as he leans in, his eyes slipping shut in tandem with the way his head tilts just so, her eyes slipping shut a delirious breath later when he’s close enough that she can feel his warmth on her own skin, his lips **soclose** , just a little bit more and-) _

Honestly, El doesn’t think she’s ever going to fully forgive her dad for interrupting what was building up to be the best first kiss of her entire life. It’d been such a beautiful moment – intimate and trusting, El letting herself be open and vulnerable in the wake of Mike’s quiet sadness. The words she’d spoken had all but poured out of her without her permission, but she doesn’t at all regret them with the way Mike reacted, awed shock spreading over his features. It had been so overwhelming that she had to look away for a moment, the expression on his face almost too much for her heart to handle.

And when she looked back to see that he had moved closer? Oh, her heart had almost taken flight, buoyed by the strength of the butterflies that burst to life inside of her.

In that moment, nothing else mattered – not the chill in the air, or the way she felt a little uncomfortably full from dinner, or that she’d only come out there to make sure Mike was ok after everything that had happened to him earlier with his dad and family. No, the only thing that mattered was _him_ and _her_ and their lips slowly drifting towards each other like it was the only thing they were ever meant to do.

But, now that El’s thinking about it, maybe it’s a good thing they were interrupted. Her eyes open, the blissful memory fading a bit, and El lets out a near-silent sigh, the sound swallowed by the cacophony of the movie playing on the screen in the family room.

As much as El hates to admit it, Mike hasn’t exactly has the best day. He didn’t want to go home for the holiday in the first place, but he did and it caused a massive falling out with his dad that essentially drove him to flee before seeking refuge with her and her dad. Not exactly the best conditions to start a new relationship _(is she being presumptuous in assuming that’s where she and mike are headed? god, she hopes not)._ And she’d be a pretty shitty friend if she took advantage of his emotional state.

Maybe the best thing El can do is give him a day or two to sort everything out, to not get everything all tangled up. El knows _she’d_ appreciate it if the roles were reversed.

After a quick moment of consideration, El reaches to grab the blanket off the back of the couch, using the move as a cover to steal a glance over at Mike. He’s leaning against the arm of the couch, elbow digging into the padded surface while his chin sits in the cradle of his palm, hand holding up his head.

El’s heart skips its usual, dizzying beat at the sight of him, so handsome and beautiful even in the mixed light that surrounds them. But she doesn’t at all miss the exhaustion that pulls at him, tightening the skin around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, warring with a quiet, nervously manic energy that sits in the line of his shoulders and in the way his knee bounces up and down almost imperceptibly.

El holds back a frown as she resettles, draping the blanket over her legs with a few flicks of her wrist. God, she feels so bad for him. The holidays are supposed to be about spending time with the people you love – not getting torn down by family members who are supposed to have your back.

El can only imagine what Mike’s going through. Her own family history is incredibly checkered, but she can at least console herself with the fact that her mom wasn’t in her right mind when she let Brenner hurt her. Mike doesn’t even have _that._ His dad is an abusive asshole and is totally of sound mind and body about it – cold and calculating and clear-minded.

She just feels so bad for him and, the more she thinks about it, the more sure she is about giving him a couple of days. As much as she desperately wants to kiss him, it’s nothing that can’t wait a little bit longer – enough time for Mike to get some distance from today’s emotional upheaval.

Sufficiently sobered, El does her best to focus on the movie, but it goes by in a blur of fast-paced action and loud explosions that is almost grating, especially considering where El’s mood is at. She won’t lie – the relief when the credits finally roll is palpable and she can’t help but sigh. _It’s about time…._

Off to her left, Hop gets up from his armchair, groaning all the while. “Ok, kids, I’m turning in for the night. Don’t go hosting any wild parties while I’m unconscious,” he says with a teasing, if tired, grin.

El rolls her eyes as she gets to her feet, wincing a little as she straightens out her knees from the curled up position they’ve been in for almost an hour. “Very funny, Dad.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I bet we could throw a hell of a kegger if we tried,” Mike says. El looks over to see him grinning at both her and her dad. It’s good to see him in relatively good spirits, his sense of humor making an appearance, but the shadows on his face are still too stark for her liking.

“You’re a shit disturber, I can just tell,” Hop says with a sharp point of his finger, but he’s smiling the entire time and El feels a frisson of suspicion roll down her spine. When did her dad and Mike get so chummy? _How?_ Outside of the maybe five minutes when she went to go set up the guest room, El’s been with them the entire time – unless something _miraculous_ happened in those five minutes that she doesn’t know about. And, honestly, the possibility of _that_ is almost frightening.

Mike’s grin turns into a full smile. “Well, I try,” he says, the words leaving him like he’s holding back a laugh.

A little frustrated at _somehow_ feeling left out of the loop, and barely managing to not pout because of it, El tries to get the conversation back on to the heart of the matter. “Well, I think I’m with you, Dad. Going to bed sounds like a great idea. Especially after a long day of cooking.” El shifts her gaze to look over at Mike. “You want me to show you where the guest room is?”

There’s something that flashes quickly across Mike’s face – but El can’t quite catch what it is before it disappears, replaced instead by a small, grateful smile. “Yeah, sure, sounds good,” Mike says. “After the dinner we had _and_ the craziness of today, I’m beat.”

_See, I knew waiting was the right thing to do._

“Well, see you two in the morning, then,” Hop says before he heads out of the family room, in the opposite direction of the stairs.

“Where’s he going?” Mike asks once Hop’s out of earshot.

El looks at Mike’s face, his eyebrow arched like he’s _seriously_ concerned, and she giggles at the sight. _**God** , he’s cute. _

“This house is laid out all weird,” El says with an airy wave of her hand. “The master bedroom’s on the back end of the first floor and the two other bedrooms are upstairs. It’s...strange.”

The concerned look on Mike’s face disappears as he takes in this information and he nods. “Oh, alright.”

He looks at her, then, and El’s very suddenly aware that they’re alone. _Again._ She swallows roughly and tries desperately not to notice the way Mike’s staring at her – hopeful and earnest, maybe a little guarded as well. It’s that guarded edge that gives her the wherewithal to ignore how every inch of her is _dying_ to kiss him right now. “Well, come on, then,” she says, voice a lot breathier than she’d like. “I’ll show you upstairs.”

Mike smiles at her, the tiny quirk of his lips doing unspeakable things to her heart, and he gestures towards the stairs with a motion that only emphasizes the long, graceful arch of his fingers. “Lead on, then.”

El starts walking first, Mike following behind her, and she can feel his eyes on her as they go up the stairs. It makes her skin tingle in the _best_ way possible, tiny jolts of pleasure that run up and down her spine to settle low in her belly and along the skin of the back of her neck.

The door to the guest room is right across the hall from hers and El slows as she approaches, turning around in the middle of the hallway. “Guest room’s right here,” she says, gesturing to the door to her right. “Bathroom’s over there and, if you need anything, I’m right here, across the hall.”

The smile that Mike gives her is somehow both bashful and rakish at the same time. “If I need anything,” he echoes.

El hears the suggestion in his voice and she almost jumps him right then and there. She doesn’t, though, but it’s a near thing – a _really_ near thing.

Instead, she side steps and twists so that her back is pressed against her bedroom door and fumbles behind her for the doorknob. “Well, good night,” she all but whispers, her voice sticking heavily in her throat as her heart races uncontrollably in her chest.

The smile on Mike’s face softens, turning oh so tender and El almost wants to cry. She just _wants_ so bad right now, it’s almost unbearable. “Night, El.”

Her door opens and, with one last smile, El slips inside her room, the quiet ‘click’ of her door latching shit behind her sounding way too loud to her ears. She leans against her door for just a moment, eyes closing as impatience tugs at her.

She can practically feel Mike on the other side of the door, the presence of the man who’s stolen her heart taunting her with the fact that she has to wait.

 _Damn my guilty conscience,_ she thinks and resists the urge to bang her head against the door behind her.

These next couple of days better go by quick.

_Or she won’t be able to be held accountable for her actions._

 

* * *

  
Ok, it’s official: Mike is _really_ confused.

It’s been almost 48 hours since he and El nearly kissed on the backyard porch swing at her dad’s house – almost 48 hours since the one thing Mike’s been dreaming about for the past 5 months was right within his grasp, so close he could almost literally touch it.

And _nothing has happened since._

Suffice it to say, it’s been the most awkward, tension-filled two days of his entire life – and considering Mike’s adolescent years, that’s really saying something.

Every time Mike looks at El, he’s brought back to that moment, that glorious moment where his lips were within an inch of touching hers, her hand holding his tightly as her breath ghosted across his skin – close enough to claim for his own, close enough to taste and touch and consume. He can’t help the strange possessiveness that washes over him. He just _wants_ her so bad. It’s not just a sexual thing, either – though that is most definitely there, don’t get him wrong. But it’s so much _more_ than that.

Mike wants to curl up with her in bed at the end of a long day. He wants to hold her hand as they walk down the street. He wants to be there for her and tell her all the things he’s never told anyone, to bare his heart and soul to her and have her do the same.

Mike’s in love with El and he just wants to be with her however she’ll have him.

So, of course, because Mike is as transparent as a freshly cleaned pane of glass, he knows this is written _all over_ his face whenever he so much as looks at El. He’s spent the past couple of days feeling very exposed and not a little vulnerable as a result. Worse, he _knows_ El and Hopper can tell – hell, Mike would be surprised if the entirety of the known universe didn’t know he was head over heels for El.

And mixed in with all of this is the matter of what _El_ feels, too. It would be one thing if Mike’s feelings were one-sided – it would suck beyond telling, but it would be contained to just him and him alone.

But it’s _not_ one-sided. Mike might be somewhat inexperienced when it comes to all things women and romance, but even he can see the way El’s been looking at him over the past couple of days, the warm regard and near-naked longing that shines bright from her gaze and makes his stomach swoop.

And instead of cheering over this development, Mike’s too busy trying to figure out what the hell is going on. What has him second-guessing himself, what’s making him confused and worried in near-equal measure, is the restraint he can also see in El’s eyes.

El’s holding herself back and Mike has no idea _why._ And to make matters worse, he’s too afraid to ask. But he knows it can’t be good and the fear of what El’s reasons might be give him cold sweats that make him feel like throwing up. The only reasons he _can_ think of are all horrible.

One is that she likes him but, for some reason, she doesn’t want to be with him in that way – whether it’s because she’s scared or because she’s ashamed _(hey, mike’s under no illusions that he’s a catch by any stretch of the imagination, especially compared to someone as bright and beautiful as el, and he can very easily see why she wouldn’t want to be seen with him)._ This is Mike’s worst fear, that there’s something about him not worth the effort.

But the other reason he can think of isn’t much better: that El doesn’t want to fuck up their roommate situation by being with him. And the reason it isn’t much better is because if that is El’s reason for holding back, the only solution for the problem is for her to move out.

And Mike really, _really_ doesn’t want that. He very much loves living with El, his wild hopes to be with her as more than friends aside. At the end of the day, he’s a very risk-averse guy and he doesn’t want to do anything that’ll make it more likely for El to move out, no matter if it means getting to be with her the way he wants to.

All of this adds up to Mike feeling stuck – unsure of how to move forward, but completely unable to go back. The near-kiss lives out there in the open, now, and somehow, some way, it’s going to need to be addressed. If not the least because Mike knows he’s eventually going to break if this goes on for too long – which is the absolute last thing he wants because he knows how he can get when pushed to the edge: brash and prickly and snippy.

_Not exactly attractive, at any rate._

So, Mike’s been trying to figure out away to breach the subject with El, to coax her into talking with him without confronting her head on.

Only he hasn’t come up with anything since he started trying on Friday morning.

And now it’s Saturday afternoon and he and El are on their way back to Chicago, cramped together in his car with the awkward tension between that lives between them taking up almost all the space and the oxygen.

_Well, at least we’re good at pretending it doesn’t exist. Getting to be second nature, by now._

Mike risks a glance at El out of the corner of his eye. They haven’t talked much during the drive and now, after about 90 minutes on the road, they’ve mostly let El’s playlist do the job of filling the silence. But Mike finds the lack of conversation unbearable. First and foremost, before anything else, El is his _friend_ and Mike misses his friend.

He intends to clear his throat to let her gently know that he’s going to speak – and he does, eventually. But, with keeping one eye on the road, Mike lets himself look at El, lets himself luxuriate as best he can in all the little things about the sight of her sitting next to him.

She’s looking out the window, elbow propped up along the bottom edge of the window, her cheek and chin resting on her palm. Her hair’s up in a loose ponytail, so Mike can see the 45-degree angled profile of her face – the line of her jaw where it curves up along her neck and up to her ear, the skin that disappears up into the hairline at the nape of her neck, the roundness of her cheek that dips down into the corner of her lips. Even facing away from him, El’s beautiful and Mike’s heart skips it’s usual beat at the thought.

But then Mike catches the way her left hand is resting against the slight bend of her knee, her fingers worrying at the fabric of her jeans, and he knows she’s not as unaffected by the strange air that’s filled the car as she looks.

Inspired, then, by the reminder that her nervousness means she _actually_ cares, Mike finally clears his throat and catches El’s attention. “Hey, you ok over there?” he asks, sparing a glance to give her a soft, questioning smile.

El smiles at him, a brief upturn of her lips, before she faces forward, head tipping back to lean against the headrest. “Yeah, I’m ok. Just torn between being happy to get back to Chicago and leaving my dad.”

“Yeah, I totally get it. Your dad’s pretty cool, all things considered,” Mike says. If nothing else, he will forever be grateful for Hopper letting him stay over Thanksgiving...and for giving him the first actual bit of proof that El has anything close to romantic feelings for him.

“All things considered?” El repeats and Mike can hear the grin in her voice. “Pray tell, what does _that_ mean?”

Mike grins as well. “Just that he carries a gun and that’s still pretty scary.”

“Oh please, he would never shoot you,” El says, Mike glancing over in time to see her rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, because I’m never going to give him a reason to _want_ to shoot me,” Mike says with a low chuckle. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

“What could you possibly do to make him want to shoot you?” El asks, voice alight with bemusement.

 _Break your heart,_ Mike’s traitorous thoughts rush to say, the words almost making them out to his tongue before he manages to bite them back.

But, somehow, the thought still lives out there in the air between them and Mike feels a prickle of discomfort between his shoulder blades – the awkwardness is back.

“Oh, I don’t know, like insult your taste in music, or something,” Mike says instead. He wishes his voice didn’t sound so lame, filled with the things he wants to say but doesn’t have the guts to.

El laughs, the sound weak and a little faint. “Please, he’d love that.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right.” Mike doesn’t know what else to say, but now that he’s talking, he doesn’t want to stop, so he casts around for something else, _anything_ else.

 _Except_ for the fact that they almost kissed. He’s not so desperate for conversation to bring up the one thing he doesn’t really want to talk about while they’re in the car. “So, uh, your dad’s house is pretty nice.”

El snorts. “Thanks. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s managed to not turn it into a pigsty since I’ve moved out. He’s not exactly a neat-freak, you know?”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Mike says with a laugh, lulled into a false sense of relaxation by the sheer happiness of just _talking_ to El and not having it feel super awkward. So he says his next words, not thinking at all about their impact. “Still, I bet it was probably a pretty good place to grow up in. Plus, you had a porch swing, so, you know.”

It hits Mike a second after the words leave his mouth what he just said. God dammit, he talked about the thing he told himself _not_ to talk about.

_Fuck._

The casual mention of the porch swing brings _everything_ rushing back and Mike wants to disappear into a corner somewhere so he can hide until the acute embarrassment becomes nothing more than a bad memory. And Mike’s not the only one affected. He hears El’s sudden intake of breath, a gasp that sticks in the back of her throat and Mike _knows_ what she’s thinking about.

_Their near kiss on that damned porch swing._

El clears her throat, the sound leaving her in almost a cough, and Mike watches out of the corner of his eye as she crosses his arms over her chest, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden turn the conversation has taken. God, Mike could just _kick_ himself for his stupid, fucking mouth, sometimes. _Why don’t you **think** before you talk, you idiot? _

“Yeah, growing up there wasn’t bad,” El says, glancing over at him, arms still crossed over her chest. Mike can only look over for a second, but the the look she’s giving him is the same as it’s been for the past couple of days: longing and wistful and hopeful, all under lock and key, face pinched tight as she keeps herself in check. In check from _what,_ Mike’s not sure, but, _god dammit,_ everything about this is frustrating.

The conversation comes to an abrupt, awkward end. Mike can’t think of a way to save it and El doesn’t appear to have any desire to continue it. Her music takes over as the only sound in the cabin and Mike wishes he was a braver person, someone with the confidence to talk about things that make him uncomfortable.

But he’s never been that person, so Mike stays quiet.

There’s not much more talking on the way home – an announcement that Mike’s going to pull off to get gas or El asking if Mike wants any of the snacks she brought along with her – and he almost cries with relief when he finally pulls up in front of their apartment building. The most awkward car ride of his entire life is _over._

Mike and El unpack in near silence, trudging up the stairs with duffle bags and backpacks slung over shoulders, and the awkwardness doesn’t disappear as they close the door behind them. _Home sweet home._

El turns to him, then, a gentle apology on her face, eyes crinkling just a little from the soft smile that graces her lips. “Hey, so, I was thinking, maybe after we unpack, we could watch a movie, or something. Hang out and chill, just you and me.” Her tone is casual, if falsely so, like she’s just trying to move past what’s sitting between them as plain as the noses on their faces.

An irrational burst of anger flashes through Mike and he swallows roughly, trying not to betray the emotion that’s racing through his veins. He’s spent two days trying to figure out how to broach the fact that they nearly kissed Thanksgiving night, all but begging her with his eyes to let him in, to let go of the self-restraint she keeping herself contained with, and living with the awkward tension all the while. And now she wants to act like _nothing_ has changed?

No, Mike can’t do this. Not tonight.

But, still, he can’t stay mad at El and the anger disappears in a sudden rush, leaving him just _tired._ “Nah, that’s ok. I’m probably just going to go to bed,” he says, letting his exhaustion seep into his tone. “I’m pretty beat – been driving all day. Besides, it’s been a long weekend, you know?”

A flash of...hurt? sadness?...slices across El’s gaze, but she smiles anyway. “Oh, yeah, sure, no problem. Sorry, didn’t even think of that.” She shrugs, another apology. “Well, then, good night, I guess.”

Mike shoulders his things once more and returns El’s smile – or _tries_ to at any rate. “Night, El.” He gives her one last look before he turns and shuffles down the hall towards his room.

He closes the door behind him, the familiar scents of home welcoming him back and helping to relax the knot that’s sitting right in the middle of his chest, threatening to consume him whole.

But even being home can’t work miracles and Mike feels like he’s teetering on the edge. Everything’s so twisted and confused. It’s clear both he and El mutually feel _something_ for each other and that they both want to continue what they started out on that porch swing.  But they’ve gotten themselves wedged in this horribly awkward mess, unable to get out of their own way.

Mike feels _everything_ slipping further and further out of his control, out of his reach. What once seemed so close has never felt so far away and Mike knows that he could fix this if he could just stop being so scared, but the rare flashes of bravery that have overtaken him in the past are nowhere to be found.

 _God,_ how is he going to get out of this mess, now?

 

* * *

  
“So, I take it your Thanksgiving weekend didn’t go as well as hoped.”

El blinks and looks up at the intruder to her lunchtime solitude – which, to be fair, is what _everyone_ else is engaged in, as well. It seems like the holiday doldrums are well and truly upon them and everyone in the cafeteria is either huddled on their own or in pairs in quiet, murmured conversation.

El had hoped to spend the lunch hour in moody, contemplative silence, with nothing but her own thoughts, but she can’t help but smile a little at just who’s interrupted her quiet time. “Kali, hi! I didn’t know you were in the office today. Figured you’d be over at City Hall.”

“And so I will be the rest of the afternoon,” Kali says, leaning against the back of one of the empty chairs at El’s table with a smooth grace that El envies. “But there was a department head meeting that just got out that my presence was requested at.”

“Hmm, ever the popular kid, huh?”

Kali’s eyes twinkle with good humor. “The _most.”_ With a background in law, Kali worked for the Department of Social Services as the liaison to the D.A.’s office, where she advised and coordinated on cases that required the involvement of Social Services, as well as helping shape policy at a city and county level.

Which, given Kali’s past – orphaned at 11, on the streets by the time she was 14, getting caught up with a gang with an attempt to “fuck the man”, before getting arrested at 17 and given the option to effectively shape up or ship out (which, in this case, meant to jail) – is nothing short of a meteoric rise.

But she’s worked hard to get to where she is – from getting her GED to going to college and _then_ to law school –  deciding that if she couldn’t break the system from the outside, then she’d disrupt it from the inside _and_ advocate for kids like her all at the same time. She’s fierce and out-spoken and wicked, _wicked_ smart.

El thinks she is nothing short of a hero.

To add to just how much of a superhero Kali seems to be to El, she is also just so _cool._ Even standing there in a sharp, charcoal grey business skirt suit and black heels can’t distract from the bright purple ends of her hair swaying where it is pulled back in a high ponytail or the shaved sides above her ears or the nose ring, all of which she somehow manages to make look crisp and cool and professional.

And, somehow, El has become friends with her. Oh, sure, El understands how it happened. For one, Kali only has a year of seniority over El and there’s a kinship between the two of them over being both among the youngest _and_ the newest in the office. And, two, Kali is just as much of a nerd in some ways as El is, having introduced herself by complementing the Storm, Rogue, and Jean Grey X-Men figurines on El’s desk during El’s first week.

They’d hit it off immediately from that point and now they try to have lunch at least a couple of times a week, revolving mostly around Kali’s busy schedule since she seems to spend half of her time at least at the D.A.’s office.

“Mind if I join you?” Kali asks, but she’s already sitting down with a smoothness that is somewhere between fluid and predatory, one leg crossing over the other as she sets down the lunch she picked up from a food truck down at the end of the block.

“Oh, no, not at all,” El says. “I could probably use the company, at any rate.”

“Well, anything to save your poor sandwich from your wrath.”

El blinks, startled, and looks down to see the shredded remains of the crust from the first half of her sandwich littering the napkin she was using as a plate. “Oh,” she breathes. God, she hadn’t even been aware she was mauling her food as she sat there, lost in thought.

“Everything ok?” Kali asks as she unwraps her food.

For a moment, El feels like deflecting. Because, no, everything is _not_ ok. The last four days have been the strangest combination of awkwardly tense and breathlessly hopeful that El feels like she’s being stretched beyond recognition, pulled in every which way by warring emotions she has no control over. For two very stressful days after that near-kiss, El gave Mike the space she’d figured he probably needed, despite how much she wanted to follow through on the promise and hope in Mike’s gaze whenever he looked at her. To be honest, she wanted to give him the space so she wouldn’t feel like she was taking advantage of him and his emotional state.

 _When we get back to Chicago,_ had been her mantra for that entire time. The car ride home had been especially tense, every fiber of her being wanting to reach for him, to ask him to pull off to the side of the road so she could kiss him senseless. She’d all but _vibrated_ with excitement and eager longing, counting down the minutes until they got home.

God, she’d had a plan and _everything._ She was going to ask if he wanted to hang out with her on the couch and watch a movie. From there, once they were on the couch, she was oh so slowly going to snuggle up against him and turn to him at some point so she could bring up their almost kiss with the intent of finishing what they’d started. They were used to being that close – though they’d barely touched at all while at her dad’s house and El finds that she’s gotten so used to touching Mike that the past few days have left her practically touch starved – and she wants to be closer, still. Her couch plan was supposed to be the thing that changed all of that.

Only that’s not what happened. Yes, El invited Mike to hang out with her on the couch, but when she did, it was like Mike _shut down._ There’d been a flash of irritation, like she’d pushed him too far too soon, before a switch flipped and he’d suddenly looked so _tired._ He’d gone off to bed and El felt guilty as she watched him trudge down the hall.

And that had been the last movement of... _whatever_ is going on between them, the two of them stuck between friendship and more, neither of them knowing how or willing to move the needle – either out of fear or ignorance, El’s not sure. But it’s been _hell._ Running errands with Mike yesterday, as their Sundays usually go, was a kind of torture El would much rather do without. Every time they so much as brushed hands, El’s heart rate would skyrocket before Mike would hastily jerk his hand away like he’d been burned. The couple of times El managed to catch the look on his face after it happened, there was a complicated mix of hurt and longing in his gaze, like he didn’t want to move, but thought he had to.

El wished she understood _why._

She also wished she was brave enough to ask him. But his rejection of her offer for company on Saturday night stung more than she’d initially thought and she was hesitant to reach out again. _Once burned, twice shy, I guess is how the saying goes._

So, no, nothing is ok and it takes El far too long, a handful of seconds that feel like an eternity, to decide that she’s not going to duck away from Kali’s incoming questions. There’s no one else she can talk to. Mike’s out of the question – he’s barely said 5 words to her since they got home from Indianapolis – and the rest of the Party is equally as off limits, considering how they were all Mike’s friends first. Kali is literally her best and only choice.

“No, not really. Not at _all,”_ El says, the words leaving her with a groan before she starts explaining _everything._

5 minutes later and El finally finishes her tale, noticing with embarrassment that Kali’s food has barely been touched because the other woman is too busy staring at her, mouth agape. “So, let me get this straight,” Kali says after a moment, mouth shutting so her lips could purse just slightly. “You’ve fallen in love with your roommate and when you took him in over Thanksgiving weekend, you two almost kissed. And now you two are stuck in some sort of inertial quagmire.”

El wrinkles her nose at hearing the complex play of emotions and history between her and Mike being reduced to an ‘inertial quagmire’ – _damn lawyers and their $5 words_ – but she nods all the same. “Yeah, it’s just a mess, Kali. I know he wants to kiss me, but, for some reason, he won’t even _talk_ to me and I just….” El sighs and looks down at her hands where she’s picking at her fingers. “I’ve tried reaching out and I’ve gotten my hand slapped, figuratively speaking. So the ball’s in his court as far as I’m concerned.”

Kali props her elbow up on the table and rests her chin in her palm, index finger tapping lightly against her cheek. “My dear, this is quite the conundrum you’ve found yourself in, isn’t it?”

El swallows roughly. “Yeah, it is. It _really_ is. And I have no idea how we’re going to get ourselves out of it. Not when we’ve reached some sort of-”

“Stalemate?” Kali supplies, cutting El off mid-sentence to offer it.

“Yeah, sure, that’s as good a word as any.” El lets out a harsh sigh, her cheeks puffing slightly with the exhale. “I just don’t know what to _do._ He doesn’t want to talk to me, much less be anywhere _near_ me and I’m not sure how to get through to him. And I’m scared of confronting him directly – I might push him away for good.”

There’s a calculating look on Kali’s face as she looks back at El, her head tilting in thought before her eyebrows quirk, her shoulders straightening with confidence of whatever realization has come to her. “Well, clearly, what the two of you need is a _push_ – or, at least, your dear Michael does.”

There’s a spark of what El can only describe as mischief in Kali’s gaze and El eyes her warily. “What do you mean by ‘push’?”

The grin that stretches across Kali’s lips is almost wolfish. “It sounds like this man you’ve fallen in love with is either scared, dragging his feet, or both. We need to instill a sense of urgency in him, make him realize what could happen if he waits too long or isn’t man enough to rise to the occasion.”

These all sound like mostly good things and El finds herself nodding along. “Yeah, ok, but how do I do that?”

Kali’s grin only widens. “Now, I need you to hear me out completely before you freak out, ok? Can you promise me that?”

A ripple of unease slithers down El’s spine, but she trusts Kali – she really does – so she sighs and nods. “Ok, I’ll listen. What’s your idea?”

“Well,” Kali says, her grin turing conspiratorial. “I have this friend who’s recently become single….”

 

* * *

  
This is how El finds herself with a blind date scheduled for Friday night.

Turns out El’s promise to hear Kali out was needed because Kali had barely gotten through the first sentence of her plan before El was rushing to object and she only held her tongue because she said she would listen.

Apparently El going out on a blind date is what’s going to prompt Mike to make a move by showing him what he’s missing out on.

“But…isn’t it wrong to go out on a date with someone I’m not interested in when I’m actually interested in someone else?” El had asked, chewing on her lower lip.

“There’s nothing wrong with a man and a woman going out for a nice dinner,” Kali had argued. “And if it makes you feel better, my friend just got out of a long-term relationship. He’s not looking for anything serious – or anything at all. He’s just looking to see if he’s ready to dip his toes back in the water, so to speak. I wouldn’t set you up with anyone who’s expecting anything more than a nice night out.” Kali had paused, then, and grinned. “But, if _anything_ should come of it, well…one can’t always predict the future, after all.”

El honestly doesn’t think she will ever find anyone who makes her feel the way Mike does, but she understands the point Kali had been making. And though El’s a little uneasy about the whole thing, it _will_ be nice to get all dressed up and treated like she’s special, _wanted._

Besides, it sounds like El’s doing a nice thing for Kali’s friend...and doing Kali a favor at the same time. It’s always nice to have a lawyer owe you a favor, after all.

When El gets home that day, the time and place of the date burning a hole in her pocket in the form of a text message from Kali, her unease deepens and fear fills the pit of her stomach. If she’s going to go through with this charade, she’s going to have to tell Mike about it...and that scares the hell out of her. El’s not usually one to shy away from confrontation, but matters of the heart have always made her second guess herself and El’s never handled confrontation in that arena well at all.

But she needs to tell him. Otherwise it’s all for nothing and El resolves to tell Mike that night.

So, to distract herself from the wait that makes her hands tremble and her stomach churn (though that could _also_ be the anxiety…), El sets about to make dinner. She decides, after a moment of deliberation, to make lasagna. It’s tasty, it makes for fantastic leftovers, and it’s time consuming to make, so it’ll help keep her distracted well until Mike gets home – all things in its favor.

Like she hoped, the act of making dinner is enough of a distraction to let the last few days slip away. The uneasy feeling melts away, if just for a little bit, and El finds herself smiling and humming along with her music as she flits about the kitchen, losing herself in the familiar rhythms of cooking.

And then the front door to the apartment opens and El’s heart leaps up into her throat. She’s just put the lasagna in the oven and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly she rushes to stand up straight and turn around so she can watch Mike walk into the apartment.

For a brief moment, before Mike has realized that she’s there, El just stares at Mike. Even though his skin’s a little too pale and drawn tightly around the corners of his face, he’s still so _pretty,_ all dark eyes and enchanting freckles and powerful features. He looks like a mystery, one she wants to spend the rest of her life solving.

And then he looks over at her and all of El’s nervousness comes rushing back. Her heart races rapidly in her chest, _you need to tell him, you need to tell him_ in every beat, and she gulps, her throat feeling way too tight. She feels like Mike’s going to take one look at her and _know_ what she has to tell him, her guilt splashed across her face for all to see.

_(even though there’s **nothing wrong** with what she’s doing – it’s not like she’s promised to mike, or anything...except that’s not what her heart says, not at all.) _

Mike gives her a small smile, uncertainty playing about the edges, and lifts the strap of his messenger bag off of where it’s draped across his chest. “Hey, smells good in here.”

El returns the smile, which feels way too shaky. “Thanks. I’m making lasagna. It’s nice when it’s cold outside, you know? Besides, this way we’ll have dinner for the rest of the week.”  

They stare at each other for probably is longer than normal, the air between them thick with potential and something akin to longing – _anticipation? curiosity? **both**? _ – and the moment breaks when Mike clears his throat, glancing away almost shyly, before he looks back. His shoulders slump a little and he gestures down the hall. “Well, I have a lot of schoolwork I should probably be doing. Finals are coming up, and all.” He’s looking at her both like he’s waiting for her to do something and dreading it all at the same time and El has no idea what to make of it.

So she just nods, one hand coming up to scratch at the side of her neck, nervous energy seeking an outlet. “Yeah, ok, sure. I’ll, um, come get you when dinner is ready?” That sentence shouldn’t have ended like a question – El knows this – but she can’t help but feeling uncertain and anxious about this. Never mind the thing she _still_ needs to tell him, the secret that burns a hole in the pit of her stomach.

And, yet, she says nothing as Mike shuffles his way back towards his bedroom. El waits to hear the sound of Mike’s door closing behind him and it’s like she can breathe again. The air leaves her lungs in a rush as she reaches out to hold on to the edge of the counter, feeling shaky and light-headed – honestly, it’s not a foregone conclusion that her knees _won’t_ give out on her.

It seems like no time at all until El’s knocking on Mike’s door to let him know dinner’s ready and she pokes her head in after opening the door, gaze searching for Mike’s lanky form. He’s sitting at his desk, back to the door in profile from where his desk sits along the wall adjacent to the door. He’s bowed over whatever he’s working on, papers splayed all across the surface of the desk and his head is propped up in one of his hands, fingers woven in amongst the thick, dark locks of his hair.

El’s heart flutters at the sight of him _(will it ever stop?)_ but she pushes it aside as she knocks again, this time on the doorjamb. “Hey,” she says as Mike whips around, panic alight in his eyes as if he hadn’t heard her open the door. “Dinner’s ready.”

The panic fades and Mike gives her a tired smile. “Ok, great. Be out in a sec.”

El smiles at him in acknowledgement before she turns to head back down the hallway, door left open behind her.

Mike appears a couple of minutes later, right after El has portioned out food for both of them and is setting down the plates while she sits herself down in her usual spot.

El looks over at him as he pulls out his chair to sit down and she can feel the words build on her tongue to tell him about her blind date. But he looks over at her and when he quirks an eyebrow at her in question, probably concerned by whatever emotion she has written all over her face, El feels her courage falter. “Everything ok?” he asks.

The words die on El’s lips, but she makes herself smile and nod. “Yeah, fine,” she says in a voice that’s almost more of a squeak. “Fine,” she repeats after taking in an almost desperate gulp of air. “How was your day, by the way? Classes kicking your butt?” It’s El’s attempt to get things as close to normal as she can and, luckily, Mike goes  along with it. They spend dinner chatting lightly about their days and El knows this is the best time to segue into an announcement about her blind date.

But they finish their food and Mike gets up after clearing the table of his plates without El having told him at all about her date. And then he’s in his room once more, sequestered to continue the uphill battle against his schoolwork, and El can’t help but chide herself for being a cowardly scaredy cat. _Way to go, Hopper,_ El thinks with a groan as she puts her dishes in the sink, not even having the energy to do any more clean up than that.

She slinks off to her room after putting the lasagna in the fridge and crawls into bed soon after that.

 _Do I have to go through with this?_ El texts Kali a little bit later, once she’s settled with a book lying next to her.

 _You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Have you told him?_ El gets back a minute later.

 _Not yet,_ El texts. _I just don’t want to hurt his feelings._

_Then tell him part of the truth: that I asked you to go out with my friend to help him get over his breakup and get used to dating again. Just don’t tell him the rest of it._

El doesn’t respond to that, but she mulls it over in the back of her mind as she settles in for the night.

 _Maybe I just won’t tell Mike anything,_ El thinks. She already told Kali – and, Kali’s friend, by extension – that she’d go and she’s not about to break her word. Maybe she’ll just tell Mike she’s going out with friends and say nothing about it being a date.

But then something happens on Tuesday night.

El’s out in the living room, watching reruns of “How I Met Your Mother”, curled up under a blanket to ward off the late fall chill. Mike’s back in his room, doing more schoolwork….

Or so she thinks.

“Hey, El?”

El jumps at the sound of Mike’s voice coming from behind and off to her left. She lets out a shriek, hand coming to press on her chest just above her racing heart, and she turns to see Mike standing just past the entrance to the hallway that leads back from the living room. “Oh my god, you scared me,” she says, breathlessly. She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath to try and calm down.

“Sorry,” Mike says and El opens her eyes to see him frowning, apology written on every line of his face. He’s holding his phone to his chest, like he’s talking to someone and doesn’t want who’s ever on the other line to overhear. Only, if Mike _were_ talking with someone, El would have heard him coming down the hall, so she figures he might just be nervous or something. But why?

“No, don’t worry about it,” El says. This is the first time, really, since they almost kissed that Mike’s actually approached her, so she’s not about to do anything that might make him go away. “Anyway, what’s up?”

Mike gives her a small smile. “Oh, well, Dustin got the Party reservations for one of those escape room things on Friday night. You in?”

El’s mouth goes dry and her heart leaps back up into her throat, but for an entirely different reason. _Oh god, this is it, isn’t it? To lie...or not lie as much?_ She glances away, looking down at her lap, a fierce blush crawling up her cheeks and making her face feel like it’s on fire. “Oh, um, I, uh...I can’t.”

“Oh, you already have plans?” Mike asks and El looks up.

The expression on Mike’s face is one of confused curiosity – brow furrowed, one eyebrow arched, lips gently pursed – and El thinks it’s unfair just how _attractive_ Mike Wheeler makes being confused actually look. It’s disarming, startlingly so, and El loses control, for just a moment, of her senses. Her brain short-circuits and she opens her mouth to speak –

“I have a date.”

The words land in the space between them like a bomb and El feels the blast ripple through her as she watches her words register with Mike. His eyes widen, his face going pale, and his mouth drops open, just slightly.

And El absolutely does _not_ miss the emotion that flashes across his eyes, a gut-wrenching combination of hurt and anger and disbelief.

“What?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

Well, now that she’s said it, she owes him _an_ explanation. El nods, the rest of her frozen where she’s still curled up under the blanket on the couch. “Yeah, um, one of my coworkers, she, uh – she asked a favor of me. One of her friends just got out of a long-term relationship and is looking to see if he’s ready to get back out there. And, since I’m single….” El’s voice is trembling, just like the rest of her, as she lets the words hang out there, trailing off in a way that gives Mike the space to say something, _anything._

But “Oh,” is all Mike says.

A long silence crawls over them and El just watches as Mike stares back at her, the laugh track of “How I Met Your Mother” sounding obscene in the space their words have left behind. Irritation sparks hot inside of her. Is that _all_ he has to say? _Oh?_

“Unless there’s a reason I _shouldn’t_ go,” El says, an eyebrow arching in challenge, and she feels her expression harden as her emotions start to get the better of her. _Come on, give me **something** …. _

Something in her voice seems to shake Mike out of the stupor her announcement put him in and he takes a step back, his own face going stony. “No, no reason,” he says, voice tight. He gulps and El watches his Adam’s apple bob heavy in his throat. “Have fun on your date.” Mike speaks the words with almost a hiss, a mean, snarky tone woven throughout.

And, with that, Mike turns on his heel and heads down back the hallway. A second later, El hears his door shut. Not slam shut, out of distress or anger or hurt. No, it’s the regular, gentle latching sound, like there’s nothing wrong, like he’s completely unaffected by what El just told him.

El can’t help the indignation that ripples through her as she looks back at the TV, a huff leaving her as she slumps against the couch cushions. _That’s_ his response? After she asked him? God, she practically _begged_ him to give her a reason not to go. She gave him an opening the size of the Grand Canyon. She all but took out a skywriter with the words “please ask me out instead” blazoned across them.

But Mike didn’t. He just...walked away, like it wasn’t worth putting up the fight...like she wasn’t worth fighting for.

Hurt mingles with the irritation and the indignation, causing tears to well up in her eyes. El reaches up to brush away the wetness that threatens to spill over her cheeks as her stomach churns with sour disappointment.

That moment on the porch swing – that beautiful, glorious moment where El almost got to find out what it would feel like to finally kiss Mike – has never felt further away and everything that either of them do seems to just make it less and less attainable, like they’re _never_ going to get back to where they were. And El has to wonder:

_How did everything get so fucked up?_

 

* * *

  
Suffice it to say, the mood in the apartment for the next few days can only be described as, well... _icy._

 _That’s an understatement,_ Mike thinks with a dark snort. _The fucking **Arctic Circle** is practically tropical in comparison._

And Mike knows it’s at least half his fault...if not _mostly_ his fault.

There have been many times in Mike’s life where he’s wished for a time machine to go back and undo something he’s done – that unfortunate haircut he had in 7th grade, the time he asked out Alyssa Grady in sophomore year of high school only to have her laugh at him in front of all her friends, all the times he sat by and let bullies pick on him and his friends – but he’s never, _ever_ wanted to go back and fix anything more than this.

He can’t stop replaying the moment where it all went really, _really_ wrong in his head –

_El telling him about her blind date, not even sounding all that enthused about it, before arching an eyebrow in challenge. “Unless there’s a reason I **shouldn’t** go.” An actual challenge, daring him to say something, **asking** him to give her a reason, to say **anything** besides “no”.... _

So, of course, Mike had said “No”, like an absolute idiot. Like he was fine with her going out on a date with some other guy, when he was anything _but._ Like he hadn’t imagined taking her out on a date for months…

...Like he wasn’t absolutely in love with her.

In Mike’s defense, he was a little _(ok, a lot)_ taken aback by El’s announcement of her blind date in the first place. Though it sounded like a) it wasn’t a romantic sort of situation and b) El didn’t sound all that enthused about the idea, it still hurt in a way Mike wasn’t at all prepared for and, well, he’s never been very good at handling that sort of hurt.

In that moment, all of Mike’s shortcomings were thrust in his face – his lack of courage to follow through on what was once literally within reach; the acute knowledge that El is a very beautiful woman and he’s just _him,_ whereas this guy she’s been set up with is probably successful and charming and handsome and absolutely everything Mike is _not_ – and Mike reacted like he always does: by withdrawing and becoming snippy.

_Great, very mature, Wheeler._

So, yeah, if Mike had a time machine, he’d go back to that moment when El gave him the opening he’d been looking for ever since they almost kissed. And instead of saying “no”, he’d tell her _everything_ he’s kept bottled up not just for the past few days, but for the past few months – how he feels, that he wants it to be _him_ who takes her out instead, that he wants to finish what they started on that porch swing – just _all of it._

Mike hadn’t been able to miss the shocked hurt that flashed across El’s gaze when he told her that there wasn’t a reason she shouldn’t go on her date, but he was too hurt himself to care in that exact moment, letting his wounded feelings take the reins as he left her with a sardonic “have fun on your date” before fleeing to his room.

They haven’t spoken since.

Mostly, Mike and El are just avoiding each other – it’s not hard to do, really, not with Mike’s workload as finals get ever closer. El gets home before he does and she’s locked away in her room when he gets home. There’s evidence in the kitchen of her taking meals without him, leaving him to eat alone before he follows her example and barricades himself in his own room. But, otherwise, it’s like he’s living alone.

Only he’s not. Mike can hear El in her room whenever he walks past while she’s home, can hear soft music playing from her phone or the low volume of whatever she’s watching on her laptop or the muted sounds of her moving around. The number of times Mike’s found himself standing in front of her door, hand poised to knock, fear and anxiety keeping him from doing anything more than that, is almost embarrassing.

And yet, it’s still less embarrassing than how he’s acted the few times they’ve been in the same room since their figurative cold war began. Painfully pretending that the other person doesn’t even exist, punctuated by furtive glances full of hurt and confusion and distrust – _god,_ it almost makes Mike want to be sick with how far they’ve regressed.

Worse, it makes him _angry,_ which doesn’t help the atmosphere at all when they’re in the same room. Mike knows he’s _radiating_ with anger, from the set of his jaw and shoulders to the stiffness of his spine to the frown that pinches at his lips. But he can’t help it. Hurt and anger are too connected for him, too intertwined. He’s angry at El for agreeing to go out on a date with another guy when he _knows_ she feels something for him; he’s angry at himself for not taking the opportunity she very openly gave him to convince her not to go; he’s angry that living with her means he has no space to lick his wounds in private, since every inch of the apartment feels like _her._

But, most of all, Mike’s angry that he can’t seem to get out of his own way – that they _both_ can’t – that he and El are stuck in this stupid back and forth that has _no back and forth._

So, yeah, it’s been a fantastic week.

And now it’s Friday, the day of El’s date, and Mike feels like he just wants to die. In a matter of hours, El’s going to go on a date with a guy who’s very much _not_ him, and she’s going to be swept off her feet and she’ll never look back, leaving Mike in the annals of broken hearted history and then she’ll –

“So, what’s she gonna do?”

The question comes with a swift kick to Mike’s shin and Mike flinches. He glares over at Dustin while he reaches down to rub at his leg under the table, gently massaging the sore spot. “Ow, you asshole, what was that for?”

“Hey, if you weren’t fucking staring off into space like a sulky little bitch, I wouldn’t have to take drastic measures, would I?” Dustin retorts.

“Oh, fuck off,” Mike says with a glare and Mike immediately feels 3 pairs of concerned eyes on him. It’s not unusual for Mike to say that towards one of his friends – they like to joke around and give each other shit – but there’s not usually the amount of vitriol that’s in his tone right now.

“Dude, you ok?” Lucas asks.

“Yeah, you’ve been in a weird mood all week,” Will follows up. The four of them are out at lunch, Will having driven up to just outside the town Northwestern’s in to join the others at a Mediterranean restaurant they all like (mostly because they make these giant gyros that are nigh irresistible).

Mike looks around at his 3 oldest friends, the core of the Party, and leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, though out of defensiveness or some sort of sense of comfort, Mike’s not sure. “What do you mean?” he asks, trying to deflect. It’s probably not going to work, but it’s at least worth a shot.

The look he gets from Lucas, accompanied by the tight groans of both Dustin and Will, makes it clear that his attempt did not at all succeed. “Nice try, Mike,” Lucas says, leveling a flat glare over at him. “We just haven’t said anything since we were hoping it’d go away, whatever it is, but clearly it’s not. So what gives, man?”

Mike gulps and looks down at his crossed arms. He knows the words he wants to say, but for a moment, he can’t say them. It’s as if speaking them will make them more real than they already are, cemented as _fact_ in his mind, and Mike’s heart twists. But, he clears his throat and forces the words out. “El has a date tonight.” The guys know Mike at least has kind of a thing for El (even though they don’t know the true extent of _everything_ ), so they’ll at least have some inkling as to why Mike’s been in a sulky mood all week.

And, from the knowingly compassionate sounds that come from the guys, Mike knows they’ve connected the dots. “Aww, that sucks,” Dustin says. “Bummer that she met someone else.”

Mike lets out a groan. “No, that’s not it – it’s a blind date that her friend set her up on as a favor to help out this guy. I’m not entirely sure _how_ this works, but it’s not just that. It’s-” Mike cuts himself off as he remembers that almost kiss, lets himself live in the memory for just a moment. God, he can still feel the warmth of her so close to him, her lips not even an inch away. If he’d just been a little faster, or if he’d had 5 more seconds….

“What is it?” Will asks and Mike knows from the gentle tone in Will’s voice that he’s giving away almost everything.

So, Mike decides to stop hiding. “Remember how I told you about how I ended up bailing on my family’s Thanksgiving and El let me crash hers with her dad?” Mike waits just a second to get confirmation from his friends that they’re following before he continues. “Well, while I was there, we, uh...we almost kissed.”

The silence that follows Mike’s declaration is deep enough to rival the Mariana Trench, it seems like, and Mike just waits while they process this information. “Wait, _almost_ kissed? What happened?” Dustin asks.

“We got interrupted by her dad,” Mike says, waving a hand dismissively. “I don’t think he was aware of what was going on, but, yeah.”

“And then what?” Will asks. “It’s been a few days since it happened, I take it, and I’m guessing El going on a date wasn’t a thing at the time.”

“Wait, did she agree to go on a date _after_ the two of you almost kissed? That’s fucking cold, man,” Lucas says, his tone going steely.

Mike glares at Lucas, hackles automatically rising as every fiber of his being rushes to come to El’s defense. “Hey, man, don’t start, ok? This isn’t her fault.”

“Not _her_ fault?” Dustin echoes. “Dude, she almost kissed you and then decided to go on a blind date with another guy.”

Mike lets out a frustrated noise. “Yeah, and I could have stopped her, ok? So we’re _both_ at fault,” he all but yells, fingernails scraping against his jeans as he balls his hands into twin fists.

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘could have stopped her’?” Will leans forward, arms braced on the table, eyebrows gently arched in confusion.

Mike gulps and closes his eyes, thinking back to three days ago. “When El told me about her date, she asked me if it was fine for her to go. ‘Unless there’s a reason I shouldn’t go,’ her words exactly.” Mike sighs and opens his eyes, looking down at his lap as his anger disappears, if just for a moment, leaving him sad and tired. “She practically asked me to stop her and I didn’t.” He looks up at his friends, at their sad, sympathetic faces. “I chickened out, ok? I couldn’t tell her that she shouldn’t go out with this guy because she should be going out with _me.”_

There’s another silence and Mike watches as the guys exchange long, heavy looks. As one, they look back over at Mike a moment later, nervousness written all over their faces, and it’s Will who takes the plunge. “Mike, are you in love with El?”

And, there it is – the one question that, for all the teasing the guys have given him for being attracted to El, they haven’t actually asked him...until now.

Mike sighs, unwilling to duck away from this anymore – he just doesn’t have the energy to fight this anymore. “Yes, I am. Have been for a while, I think. Or maybe I have been the whole time, I just don’t know anymore.”

“Mike, you have to tell her,” Dustin says.

Lucas nods. “Yeah, it’s clearly weighing on you. Holding onto this is going to kill you, man.”

“And just _how_ am I supposed to tell her?” Mike asks, the angst of the past few days coming roaring back with all its frustrations. “I mean, she practically handed me a chance on a silver _fucking_ platter and I couldn’t even manage it _that_ time.”

“I don’t know, Mike,” Will says. “You’re just going to have to figure out how badly you want it. There’s no reward without risk. It’s up to you to decide if it’s worth overcoming your fears. _Talk_ to her, Mike. That’s all you need to do.” The tone of Will’s voice is gentle, but the words are unyielding, filled with a truth Mike’s been almost too scared to face: if he wants El, he’s going to have to _fight_ for her.

And the thing he’s going to have to fight?

_Himself._

Mike nods, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I know,” he breathes. He looks over at Dustin. “Um, I think I’m going to pass on the escape room tonight, if that’s ok.”

Dustin smiles, his normal toothy smile toned down to one that is soft and gentle. “Yeah, man, that’s fine. Good luck.”

Mike tries to return the smile, but it feels shaky, tenuous, and he feels like he’s inches from dissolving into a pure, nervous wreck. “Thanks. I think I’m gonna need it.”

“No you won’t.” The tone in Lucas’ voice is confident and Mike turns to look at him with surprise. Lucas smiles as well, but this one is knowing. “When push comes to shove, you always come through. You got this.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Mike says with a weak laugh. “Hopefully. Maybe.”

“No maybe about it,” Lucas retorts. “I know you can do this.”

There’s a conviction in Lucas’ voice that makes Mike feel like maybe he _can_ do this and, despite the way his stomach churns and his neck and shoulders tighten with nervous tension, Mike nods. “Thanks, man.”

Mike leaves lunch feeling buoyed by his friends’ advice and confidence and, for at least a little while, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can do this. Maybe he can suck it up and summon the courage necessary to put himself out there and tell El that she shouldn’t go out with this guy she doesn’t know because he’s in love with her.

But, it’s easier said than done and not even the most supportive words from his friends can make Mike overcome the thick tangled knot of emotions and self-doubt that sour his stomach. Whatever iota of bravery Mike had been able to summon up as the afternoon went is gone completely by the time he’s unlocking the front door to the apartment, disappearing into the ether, and Mike wishes he could make his hands stop trembling.

It’s a little after 5 when Mike gets home and he can hear telltale signs of running water coming from El’s bathroom. He gulps, heart sinking into the pit of his stomach. El’s already home, taking a shower as part of getting ready for her date.

_It should be **me** taking her out. And it could have been if I was just a little braver. _

The lights in the living room are mostly off, so Mike flicks them on as he passes through on his way back to his bedroom. Hell, he even turns on the hall light and it takes until he’s plopping down onto his bed to realize why.

When he sits on his bed with his bedroom door open, he can see straight down the hall into the rest of the apartment. So whenever El finishes getting ready, he’ll be able to torture himself with seeing how she’s dressed up for this man she’s never met.

Mike rolls his eyes at himself and reaches for his bag to pull his laptop out. _What are you even doing, Wheeler?_ he chides himself as he boots his computer back up.

With a shake of his head, Mike lets himself get distracted by surfing the internet – catching up on various sites he likes to visit – and it helps get his mind off of everything, at least for a little while.

In fact, it helps so much that he misses El coming out of the bathroom and going into her room, catching only the sound of her bedroom door clicking shut. Mike can’t stop from scowling, both annoyed at missing her _and_ angry at himself for caring so much, for doing this to himself.

For the next couple of minutes, Mike tries to recapture the blissful distraction of the last hour, but it’s nowhere to be found. Part of it is that he knows that, if El’s finished in the bathroom, she’s just about finished getting ready entirely, which means she’s about to leave...and he hasn’t even talked to her yet, hasn’t even _tried._

But, the other part is his stomach, which grumbles lightly at not having been fed since lunch. Mike huffs out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll go eat something,” he mutters to himself, a little surprised that he’s even hungry given how nervous and anxious he is. He slides his laptop on to his bed and gets to his feet, making his way slowly down the hall to the kitchen.

He pauses again outside El’s room, ears straining for any sign of her, but there’s just silence coming from the other side of her door. With a sigh, Mike continues on to the kitchen to hunt around for something to eat.

He’s just deciding to cobble together something from a combination of leftovers and snack foods when he hears the sound of footsteps behind him in the form of the gentle clacking of high heels. Heart in his throat, Mike gathers up the courage to turn around, to at least _acknowledge_ El for the first time in days and –

_Holy. Shit._

In that moment, Mike completely forgets how to breathe. And, honestly, he doesn’t think anyone would blame him.

Because El’s _gorgeous_ and he’s _never_ seen anyone as breathtakingly beautiful as her.

She’s standing by the entrance to the kitchen, intent on using the open end of the counter to sort through and re-pack what looks like a very tiny purse, but Mike barely notices the small bag in her hands

No, he’s too busy drinking in the sight of _everything else._

El’s wearing a dress. Now, this isn’t unusual – Mike’s seen El wear dresses numerous times. But he’s never seen her wear a dress like _this:_ sleeveless with a low, square neckline, high-waisted, emerald green satin clinging close to the lines of her body, the fabric ending a few inches below the knee after skimming tight down the line of her legs. Her feet are encased in high, black heels that add about 4 inches to her height and make her calves look _fantastic._

Mike can’t help the way his eyes skim her form and he almost whimpers when his gaze focuses on her face and hair. It’s obvious El’s wearing makeup and it’s absolutely _flawless_ – lips painted red, eyes lined with kohl, a light blush spread across her cheeks. And her hair... _god,_ her hair. Pinned up on one side to expose the full sweep of her neck and jaw, the gently teased waves spill over one shoulder, gleaming in the light of the apartment as the strands beg for someone to run their fingers through and Mike’s fingers itch to comply.

El is, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman on the face of the planet and no one will ever compare, not for as long as he lives. He’s spellbound, completely and totally enchanted, and he never wants to find his way free.

And then he remembers.

_She’s dressed like this for someone else._

Reality crashes back down into him and Mike’s heart shrivels a little in his chest as it twists and lurches. He gulps down the emotion that threatens to rise up and overtake him, trying the best he can to lock himself down.

El’s staring back at him, surprise and cautious curiosity in her eyes. She looks almost vulnerable as she stands there, eyes wide and lips gently parted. “Oh, I didn’t know you were out here.” They’re the first words she’s spoken to him since Tuesday and her voice is like music to Mike’s ears. God, how he missed that sound.

He just misses _her_ and even though she’s standing right in front of him, she’s never felt further away.

Mike didn’t know it was possible to feel this sad about anything and he desperately tries to hide it, feeling exposed and vulnerable when he needs to be anything but.

Still, he manages to clear his throat enough so he can speak. “Um, yeah, just getting together some dinner.”

El nods, but doesn’t say anything for what feels like several seconds. “Well, I’m just gonna….” She trails off, giving Mike one last, lingering look before she turns away, grabbing the coat she must have tossed onto the couch when she came out from her room.

Mike watches silently as she slips into the black wool coat, graceful fingers buttoning it closed. She grabs her purse and, without a glance back at Mike, slips out the front door of the apartment, leaving him behind in the lonely apartment.

Mike stares at the space El just left behind, like if he just stares hard and long enough, she’ll come back in through the front door...back to _him._

But she doesn’t.

No, El’s gone, out on a date with someone else, someone who isn’t _him._

_And he just let her go._

Anger surges inside of him, anger directed completely at himself and his total lack of bravery. God, he doesn’t deserve her – El doesn’t deserve to have someone as weak and spineless as him trailing after her, someone who can’t get their shit together when it _really_ counts.

It’s only a matter of time before El realizes this, before she moves on and finds someone who actually deserves her, who can fight for her and treat her like she deserves.

_Someone who isn’t **him**. _

Mike would like to say that his eyes don’t fill with tears. He would like to say that a hiccuping sob doesn’t leave from between his lips, that his appetite doesn’t completely disappear as everything turns to ash on his tongue. He would like to say that his heart isn’t breaking into a thousand pieces.

But that would be a lie.

No matter how much he’d like to believe it.

 

* * *

  
El can still feel Mike’s eyes on her, his gaze as it traveled up and down her body tattooed on every inch of her with blazing ferocity.

El thinks she’s _never_ going to forget the way he looked at her, a heady combination of awe and heat, affection and attraction all at once. El wants to drown in the way Mike looked at her, wants to wrap herself up in way it made her feel, like she was powerful and cherished all at the same time.

But, El also remembers the way Mike’s gaze went stony mere moments later, like he didn’t want her to forget the icy animosity of the past few days...like he’d just remembered that she was going on a date _not_ with him.

El groans as she lets her head fall back against the headrest of her Lyft driver’s back passenger seat. God, she’s just so _tired._ This week has been exhausting, full of anger and hurt that makes her stomach churn and her neck feel too tight. But her anger and hurt are beginning to fade, instead turning into a sad disappointment that aches so, so much. It’s a weight that is too heavy for her to carry and El sometimes thinks it’s going to drag her so far underwater, she’ll never be able to find her way back up to the surface.

She just wants to go back to that moment, right as they were about to kiss, before they got interrupted, and finish what they started right then and there. Hell, even if they still got interrupted, just wait for her dad to disappear before following through on that kiss. Then this whole week could have been avoided – all the hurt and the uncertainty and the anger and just all of it.

 _But there’s no turning back time,_ El thinks with a soft sigh and she’s so very grateful that her Lyft driver doesn’t so much as eye her in the rearview mirror at the sound. She must be giving off “not in the mood” vibes right now and, honestly, it’s for the best. Whatever social graces El still has, she’s going to have to save for this date of hers.

As much as El wishes she either wasn’t going on this date at all or that she was going on it with _someone else,_ she’s still a little curious about this guy Kali would go out on a limb for. And, for what feels like the 10th time today, El goes over what she knows about this guy, her blind date and it isn’t much.

She knows his name is Sean, that he’s a friend of Kali’s from law school, that he works for a mid-level law firm practicing family law, that he’s a few years older than she is, and that he’s pretty cute from the picture Kali texted her a couple of days ago. Not _Mike_ cute – oh no, nowhere _close_ – but El supposes Sean’s sandy blond hair and green eyes aren’t so bad to look at. Some would probably call him handsome, but he’s not exactly El’s type.

Still, El’s at least a little curious, if only on an intellectual level. And she can’t deny that it’s nice to get dressed up and go out to a fancy restaurant.

_(though it could be **so** much better, if only the right person were there, waiting for her. the right person with his dark eyes and equally dark hair and the smattering of freckles she loves to get lost in, the right person who makes her laugh with his nerdy jokes and who she can happily spend hours with not even saying a word. the right person who she’s fallen madly in love with and wants to be with for the rest of her days, who she wants to hold and cherish and protect...the right person who’s stolen her heart so thoroughly, she never wants him to return it. _

**_if only_** _.)_

The ride to the restaurant is kind of a blur as El lets herself get lost in her own thoughts and, before she knows it, she’s walking in through the front doors of a swanky restaurant near the heart of downtown. It’s the kind of restaurant a high-end professional would pick – all clean lines and modern fixtures with a bar that looks like it can make any kind of cocktail imaginable – and El feels a little out of place, even though her outfit is perfectly suited for it.

“Hi, are you El?”

The sound of someone calling out to her startles her and El turns to see who she can only guess is Sean (he matches the picture well enough, at least) standing up from where he was sitting one on of the long, leather benches that line the restaurant’s entry way. El manages a small smile and feels victorious for remembering to be polite. “Yes, I am,” she says in response. “I take it you’re Sean?”

Sean smiles, flashing her perfectly white, straight teeth, and lets out a low chuckle. “That would be me,” he says. He holds out his hand for El to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” El says as she shakes his hand. His grip is warm, but gentle...and El feels absolutely nothing.

“Here, let’s check your coat. The hostess said our table would be ready in a few minutes,” Sean says as he gestures to the coat check.

El lets him help her out of her coat, putting him through his paces as a gentleman, and she’s at least mildly pleased to find that he passes with flying colors. _Well, at least he’s polite._

“I hope you weren’t waiting long,” El says as they approach the hostess’ station.

Sean shrugs. “Eh, not too long. Didn’t want you to be waiting.” He gives her a small smile and, from where El’s standing right next to him, she can see the nervous twinge to it. “It’s been a while since I’ve met a woman at a restaurant for a date.”

El can’t help it – she laughs, though not unkindly. “Well, you’re doing a good job so far.” She gives him a look. “Fair warning, though, you’re not my type, so take that compliment with a grain of salt.”

At that, Sean lets out a chortle. “What every man wants a beautiful woman to tell him,” he says with a roll of his eyes before he looks at her with a small, understanding smile on his face. “And no worries about the type thing. Kali told me you’re not looking for anything serious.”

El cocks her head. “What _did_ Kali tell you?” she asks.

“Just that you’re trying to work through something yourself,” he says as the hostess returns to the front. “Didn’t give any more details than that, in case you’re worried.”

Any response El has to give gets lost as the hostess acknowledges them, showing them to their table. Sean continues his gentlemanly crusade and pulls her chair out for her to sit down, which makes El smile despite herself. “You’re really pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?”

“More like making sure I haven’t forgotten any of the steps,” Sean says with a smile before the hostess sets down their menus.

All in all, the date’s not off to a bad start by any stretch of the imagination. El orders a glass of wine and Sean orders a cocktail and the two of them lightly chat while they peruse the menus to decide on dinner. It’s a back and forth that continues once they’ve ordered their meals and it only takes until about 20 minutes into the date for one thing to become perfectly, painfully clear to El.

Sean is a nice guy, a _truly_ nice guy – he’s accomplished and funny and nice and he doesn’t stare at her breasts and he actually listens when she talks. And, in another universe, El might find herself swept off her feet, might find herself charmed by his humor that runs maybe a little too lawyerly for her tastes and the boyishly crooked tilt to his smile when he laughs at something she says and the way he sits like he’s comfortably sure of his place in the world without being cocky about it.

But he’s not _Mike._ And in a world where Mike Wheeler exists, no one else can compare – no other person even comes _close._ Mike is _it_ for her, now and forever, no matter what happens between them. Her heartbeat resonates with the truth of that realization, thumping along every inch of her veins with a surety that is almost addicting.

If only she could figure out a way to break through the tension that’s threatening to take permanent residency between them.

“So, Kali says you recently got out of a long-term relationship,” El says once their food has arrived. She’s on her second glass of wine and Sean has joined her in the wine-drinking, a glass of red sitting by his plate that mirrors hers.

Sean winces and nods. “Yeah, ended about 4 months ago.”

El cuts off a small piece of her meat – a succulent piece of roast pork – and regards Sean gently. “What happened? Between the two of you, I mean?” she asks before she takes a bite of her food.

“I’m still trying to figure that out, exactly,” Sean says with a sigh. “We’d been growing apart for a while, I think. Honestly, we were in the middle of it before we knew what was going on and, once we realized it, it was too late.” El winces – she well understands the feeling of finding yourself in the middle of heap of trouble without knowing how you got there, like the proverbial frog in a pot of boiling water. Hell, this entire mess with Mike can be summed up with almost that exact sentiment. And, from the sympathetic look on Sean’s face, El’s reaction hasn’t gone unnoticed.

But it, luckily, does go unremarked. “Did you guys try to patch things up?” El asks.

“We did, but we had grown too far apart for anything to bridge the gap,” Sean says. He looks sad and tired, for just a moment, the things he’s lost reflected painfully on his face. “I thought I was going to marry her – had it all planned out and everything – and when it ended like it did, and so suddenly, too, I felt like I didn’t know anything. All the things I had planned went up in smoke and I’m still sifting through the ashes, trying to piece something together.”

There’s a palpable pain in Sean’s voice and El finds herself reaching across the table, her hand landing on his where it’s resting by his wine glass, a simple act of comfort from one human being to another. “You’ll figure out your way through. You’re a good guy, from what I’ve seen so far at least. You’ll find someone who can grow with you, instead of away from you.”

Sean smiles at her, the expression soft and full of gratitude. “You’re a good person, El Hopper. I hope you have people in your life who appreciate that.”

El lets out a weak laugh. “I hope so, too.”

Sean narrows his eyes at her, an inquisitive look on his face, though it’s kind, almost disarmingly so. “And don’t think I missed the way you winced when I was telling you about my problems. I think I’m not the only person at this table who’s been unlucky in love.”

El cringes, looking away to glance down at the table. “Damn, here I was hoping you’d leave that one alone,” she says as she raises her gaze back up to her dining companion.

“Nope, no such luck,” Sean says with a grin. “Now, you let me unload all my problems onto you. Let me return the favor.”

El practically slumps in her chair, air rushing out of her in a harsh sigh. “My problems are a lot more current,” she says. “Like, the last week or so kind of current.”

Sean sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth. “You going through a rough patch with your boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?”

“Try not-yet boyfriend,” El says with a humorless twist of her lips. And, at the confused look Sean’s giving her, El finds herself telling Sean about almost everything – or, at least, the Cliff Notes version of it. Neither of them really have the time for her to spend 2 hours giving him every little detail.

And, at the end of it, Sean is quiet for a good, solid handful of seconds before he lets out a low whistle. “Wow, that’s, uh….”

“A bit of a flaming car wreck?” El says.

“Uh, well I was going to say ‘a hot mess’, so close,” Sean says with a laugh. “Sounds like you and your roommate are all kinds of twisted up, though.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” El sighs and takes a sip of her wine. “I guess, like you, Mike and I found ourselves in the middle of this before we really even knew it and it had spiraled all out of control by the time we realized it.”

Sean’s smiling over at her, but it’s gentle and not at all mocking, an expression that is all too knowing for El’s liking. “Want me to give you a piece of advice?”

El’s lips lift up in a small smirk. “If I say no, will that stop you?”

“Men are stupid when it comes to women,” Sean says. “Even the smartest guy is a complete dunce when it comes to women. Especially when it’s a woman we love. We often don’t know what to make of our feelings or how to act on them – we get in our own way and are absolutely excellent at self-sabotaging our own happiness. And, from what I can tell from what you’ve told me, this Mike guy sounds like he’s absolutely head over heels for you. Honestly, I don’t blame him – you’re smart and funny and beautiful and one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. So he’s probably twice as scared as he would normally be that he’s going to screw everything up. So my recommendation?”

Sean pauses and El finds herself holding her breath, waiting almost on the edge of her seat for him to continue. “ _Make_ him talk to you. And be blunt, tell it to him straight how you feel about him. Leave no room for doubt and don’t hold anything back. If he’s as in love with you as I think he is, that’ll give him the push he needs to get over himself and out of his own way. Fight for him, El. If you really want him, fight for him harder than you’ve fought for anything. Even against himself.”

Dinner continues on from there, but El feels like she floats through the rest of it. Sean’s words feel like they’ve been etched in the forefront of her mind, her blood racing with the urgency they inspire in her. She finds that her hands are trembling, even if just slightly, for the rest of dinner as she suddenly can’t wait to go home.

It’s the one thing she hasn’t tried, the one thing she has left, to be honest. And El knows Sean is right, even though it scares the crap out of her. If she wants Mike – and she does, she really, _really_ does – she’s going to have to make herself vulnerable, going to have to put herself out there.

If she doesn’t, El’s afraid that things are going to continue on like this until neither of them can stand the other and one of them has to move out and El will lose both her roommate and the best friend she’s ever had in her entire life.

So, honestly, it’s not like she has anything to lose at this point.

But, despite the urgency that races in her veins, El stays out the dinner. She uses the time to devote part of her mind to thinking of the things she wants to say and, if Sean notices that she’s a little distracted, he’s too nice to say anything about it.

And, finally, when the dinner is over and Sean’s taken care of the check, they each order their own rideshare before going out to the front entrance to wait. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, El,” Sean says. “It’s been fun talking with you. Let me know if you ever need a friend to hang out with sometime.”

El lets out a laugh, excited and nervous by equal measure, and she is grateful for the strange, serendipitous turn her life has taken, that she’s found herself on this blind date with this guy who’s given her the advice she’s desperately needed to feel like she has some control over things again. “It’s been a good night, to be sure. Thanks for letting me vent. _And_ for the advice.”

Sean shrugs. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Happy to help. Hopefully, everything will work out with your guy.”

“I hope so,” El says. “And I hope you eventually find yourself ready to put yourself out there. You have a lot to offer to some lucky lady out there.”

“Thanks, El,” Sean says with a bashful smile. “So, who wants to tell Kali how successful this night was?”

At that, El laughs. “I vote for you. After all, the two of you are law school drinking buddies.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll call her up and we’ll go get shit faced. Like old times. And, if things don’t turn out so well with your guy, come and join us. Alcohol is a great emotional pain-killer.”

Their rides show up nearly at the same time and El finds herself shaking Sean’s hand goodbye with promises to join him and Kali if it all goes to shit before she slides into the backseat of the Lyft she ordered.

And then she’s on her way home. Her hands are full on trembling now and El clutches her purse tight to keep them steady. The two glasses of wine she had at dinner help take the worst edge off the nervous fear that tangles with her heart, making her almost short of breath. But, mostly, El’s just _excited._ She finally has a plan of action, after days of not knowing what to do, after days of _waiting_ for something to happen. Sure, it’s just about the only thing she can do, backed into a corner as she is, but it’s _something_ and it’s more than she’s had in what feels like forever.

Still, despite the nervous urgency that propels her forward and makes her palms sweat, El finds herself pausing just before the front door to the apartment. She takes in a deep breath and uses the moment to steady herself. Once she walks in through this door, there’s no turning back. Come hell or high water, _everything’s_ going to be out in the open and this painful limbo will finally end.

_Go fight for him._

Gulping, El wipes her palms on the smooth fabric of her dress before she pulls her keys out of her purse, one hand unbuttoning her coat while she unlocks the door with the other.

She strides in through the door, not bothering to be gentle as she closes it behind her, and she tosses her coat and purse on the dining room table. All the lights are on, including the ones in Mike’s room, so he’s still here. She can see him, mostly framed by the open doorway. He’s on his laptop, arms folded tightly over his chest as he watches something on the small screen, a pair of earbuds firmly in his ears. His face is drawn and a little pale, which El can tell even from how far away she is, and it speaks to the mood she must have left him in a couple hours before.

_A perfect pity party for one. Well, no more, goddamnit. We’re going to **talk**. _

She squares her shoulders, determination pulling up at her spine, and she all but _marches_ down the length of the apartment, head held high as the part of her that is stubborn and headstrong takes over.

It’s time for this to end.

El stops just inside Mike’s room and takes a bit of perverse pleasure at the way he jumps as he sees her approaching him out of the corner of his eye. She waits to speak until he’s taken the earbuds out of his ears, watching as his eyes widen and he fumbles to set the laptop aside. “Jesus Christ, you scared the crap out of me,” Mike says, eyeing her warily, as he rushes to sit up.

“We need to talk, you and I. And I’m not taking no for an answer,” El says, blatantly challenging him. El knows enough about Mike to know that his first instinct when challenged is to dig in his heels and fight back, but that he often overthinks and keeps himself from indulging in that instinct when he’s clear-headed enough to think things through. But El’s banking on Mike being too tired and sick of all this bullshit to be thinking perfectly clearly and she hopes her gamble pays off.

At first, his eyes widen even more, but, the next moment, Mike narrows his gaze at her, an encouraging sign, and gets to his feet. “Yeah, no, I don’t think so. No offense, but I’m really not in the mood, nor do I have the energy.” He moves like he’s going to either brush past her or push her out of his room, but El steps in front of him.

“No, I have things I need to say to you, Mike Wheeler, and you are going to listen to me,” El says, poking him in the chest with her index finger, maybe a little harder than necessary. But she can’t help it. Her emotions are swinging wildly, hope and confidence mixing with just how sick she is of _all_ of this – all of the avoiding and dancing around each other and looking at each other with hurt, longing gazes. Well, she’s not going to take it anymore.

Mike scowls at her and takes a step back, hand coming up to rub at the spot where El touched him, like she bruised him or something. “Ow, what the hell?” he says, hand going still over his sternum, palm resting on the gray t-shirt he’s wearing. “You barely talk to me for a week and now you’re _manhandling_ me? That’s low, even for you. Get out of my room.”

“No, not until you hear what I have to say.”

“What, your _date_ not give you enough attention, or something? You have to come pick on your poor, pathetic roommate instead?” Mike sneers.

El arches an eyebrow. “What, you have a problem with me going on a date?”

Mike scoffs as he looks at her with disbelief etched on his features. “Oh my god, I can’t believe _you_ asked me that question. You, of all people. After _everything_ that’s happened,” he says, shaking his head.

“Well, it’s not like anyone _else_ was asking me,” El says, knowing she’s needling him. But she doesn’t care. She stopped caring the second she walked into his room. She’s _tired_ of keeping this all bottled up and she’s _not_ going to do it anymore. She and Mike are going to talk about this even if it _hurts._

Mike’s jaw drops and El hears him gasp. “That’s a low blow, El. _Real_ low.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” El retorts as she glares at him. Their words are starting to come faster, the air between them heating as they start talking over each other, volume rising with each word until they’re shouting

“You know what? I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to-”

“Tell me, Mike.”

“And if you think you can just barge in here–”

“If you just _answer_ me-”

“And _force_ me to talk-”

“What’s wrong with me-”

“After the shit you pulled this week-”

“Going out on a date with another guy?”

“ _Because it should have been me!”_

_And there it is._

Silence, sharp and sudden, falls over the room and El realizes that she’s practically panting, she’s breathing so hard. And Mike’s not much better. She stares up at him, taking in the eyes that blaze with passion, his cheeks flushed as his chest heaves with lack of breath, and she finds herself frozen in place, her heart racing as Mike’s confession works its way through her.

Which is good, because Mike keeps talking.

“It should have been me,” he repeats, voice ragged like the dam has finally broken. His shoulders slump, just a little, like the fight has gone out of him and he’s just _tired._ “I should have been the one to ask you out. God dammit, El, we almost _kissed_ last week and then you pulled away and I couldn’t figure out how to get to you.” He runs a hand through his hair, nervous energy needing an output. “And I spent so much time trying to work out what to do and then you tell me you have this blind date and it hurt, ok?”

His voice trembles, pain writ in every breath, and El’s heart squeezes painfully. _She_ did this to him – she has no one to blame but herself. But she’s going to fix this. She _is_ fixing this. “I’m sorry,” El breathes.

Mike keeps on talking like he hadn’t heard her and El thinks maybe he hadn’t, given how she could barely hear her own words. “I thought we had something, that you were on the same page as I was, even if we couldn’t figure out how to get to the next one. But when you told me about this date, I realized that you could have anyone, that I could lose even the slim hope I had. And I was so angry – angry at you for agreeing to go out on this date when we’d almost kissed only a few days before – but mostly I was angry at myself. I was angry because I didn’t know how to get over my fear of fucking everything up, because I was too scared of losing my best friend and my roommate...because I didn’t know how to ask her out so she would go out with me instead.”

Mike seems to run out of steam and he stares at her, fear and desperation in his eyes, like he needs her to keep him close and is scared she’s going to do anything but.

_So it’s a good thing she wants to do just that._

El feels like she can barely breathe and, in the wake of Mike’s confession, an army of butterflies have taken flight inside her stomach, her heart trembling with each fluttering beat of their wings. She takes a slow step towards him, close enough that she has to tilt her head to look up at him, though it’s easier than usual given the 4-inch heels she’s wearing. Mike’s close enough that she can see the delicate splash of freckles across his nose and cheeks, framed beautifully by the pale alabaster of his skin and the flush that spreads high across his cheekbones. She stares up into his eyes, feeling almost a little faint, and her heart skips a beat at the depth of the emotions she sees reflected in his gaze.

“Ask me, right now. _Please.”_ El says, her voice barely higher than a whisper. It’s all she can manage, given how she can’t manage to draw in a full breath.

Mike’s eyes widen and, for a moment, he just stares at her, like he can’t believe this is actually happening...like he can’t believe she’s _real._ “El, will you go out with me?” he breathes.

El was expecting it, and yet hearing him ask her still manages to make her breath hitch in her chest. “Yes, Mike, I’d love t-”

El doesn’t get to finish the rest of her sentence. Because, before she can, before she’s even fully aware what’s going on, Mike leans in, his hands reaching for her. One slides around her waist, but the other comes up to oh so gently cup her cheek, his fingers resting lightly against the side of her neck, and El can’t stop the gasp that escapes her as he tips her face up towards his. Her heart feels like it’s about to pound it’s way out her chest, it’s beating so fast, and she watches as Mike continues to close the gap between them.

And then he stops, his breath ghosting across her lips and cheeks, and El almost whimpers. So close, and yet…. “No interruptions?” Mike asks, his forehead brushing against hers as he leans over her.

Blindly, eyes heavy lidded as she stares up at him, El reaches for Mike. Her hands making contact with his torso, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his t-shirt along the sides of his ribcage. She hears him suck in a sudden breath and El watches Mike’s gaze dance across her face, like he’s waiting for her to stop him and hoping fervently that she won’t. “Not this time,” she whispers. “Never again.”

“Good,” is the last thing he says before he moves to eliminate the last of the distance between them. El tips her face up just that much more, her eyes slipping shut all the way and–

_Oh, **finally**. _

Kissing Mike is... _god,_ like nothing she’s ever felt before in her entire life. She feels like she’s going to float away, just untether from gravity entirely and dissolve into pure sensation. His mouth is soft on hers, lips slightly chapped but so, _so_ warm. His hands on her send sparks of warmth up and down her spine, his thumb making her shiver as he gently caresses her cheek, the tip of his thumb brushing along the line of her cheekbone and leaving behind blazing, tingling trails in its wake.

El never wants this to end.

And, yet, at the same time, she wants _more._

El pushes up onto her toes, the grip she has on his t-shirt tightening as her body curls up into his. She kisses him harder, letting her mouth slant against his so that her lips part just so beneath his. Mike groans against her mouth and his hand slides up into her hair from her cheek, fingers weaving through the strands as he cups the back of her head, using his hold to deepen the kiss even more.

And then his lips part against hers in return, his tongue lightly and _slowly_ tracing along the length of her lower lip. El can’t hold back the whimper that escapes her, an answer to Mike’s earlier groan, as the ground shifts beneath their feet. Heat sparks between them, thick and heady, and she just _wants_ – his mouth on hers, his hands in her hair and against her skin, his body warm where she’s pressed against him – _all of it._

Their mouths meet over and over again in devouring kisses that set them both on fire, everything they feel for each other poured into each dizzying caress of their lips. All El can think is _thank god_ and she loses herself in Mike’s kisses, drawn into the heat of his mouth, the silken draw of his tongue, and the devilish dance of his fingers in her scalp and along the small of her back.

She’s imagined this so many times and, yet, the reality is so much better. The way his lips brush against hers, alternating between gentle and bruising, sends shivers down her spine, every inch of her tingling in a way that has her wondering how his lips will feel on _other_ parts of her. _God,_ it would be too easy to let herself get carried away, to let the promise of his mouth and tongue and hands lure her into forgetting all common sense.

But, at the same time, El doesn’t want to give this moment up. There’s something so delicious in how he has to lean over to kiss her, even with her in heels, his body curving over hers as he drinks from her lips. His arms are warm and strong as he holds her tight against him and El would be quite happy if he _never_ let her go.

As always, though, all good things must come to an end and their kisses slow until they come to a complete stop. El willingly pulls back, just a little, even though she can’t help the tiny whimper that escapes her, part of her very much not wanting to stop.

But she forgets all about that when she looks up at him and El gasps at the sight staring back down at her. For just a moment, Mike looks down at her like she holds the key to _everything_ , eyes dark with blown pupils that still manage to shine warmly down at her. His lips are swollen from their kisses, cheeks flush from the passion that flows easily between them, looking so devastatingly handsome and adorable and beautiful that El almost can’t handle it.

And then he leans in once more – not to kiss her, but to let his forehead rest against hers. El’s eyes slip shut of their own accord and she breathes him in. Despite the blood that races in her veins, begging for more, she’s content to just _live_ in this moment, relishing how close he is. It’s been _days_ since they’ve been anywhere near this close and El’s missed it more than words can say.

“Hi,” Mike breathes a moment later, thick and ragged and full of so much happiness. He’s so close that El feels the word whispered against her skin and she shivers at the sensation.

El opens her eyes and looks up to see Mike staring down at her. There’s a dreamy smile on his face, awe writ large in his gaze, and El knows she’s completely mirroring his expression, that the same smile is on her face and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

And in this moment, she falls in love with him all over again. So she does the only thing she can do.

She says “hi” back.

 

* * *

  
He’s dreaming. He _has_ to be.

There’s no way – just _no fucking way_ – he’s actually standing in his room (in his pjs, no less), making out with the literal girl of his dreams, something he swears would have been impossible as recently as 10 minutes ago.

But, no, this is real, _really_ real... _finally_ real.

And it’s so much better than he ever could have imagined.

El’s lips are soft, so soft, as they caress his over and over again, just like he thought they always would be. And, more importantly, there’s an eager edge to her kisses every time their lips meet, like the breathless moments between when their lips part and meet back up again are just intolerable. Mike’s glad for it because he never wants to stop kissing her and it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who feels that way.

And she’s so warm as she stands in his arms, leaning into his embrace like there’s no such thing as too close, all svelte curves and silken skin. Mike lets the fingers of one hand entwine with the luxurious softness of her hair, the strands sliding easily against his own skin, while the other holds her close where it’s wrapped around her waist, his fingers teasing the small of her back through the satin of her dress.

There’s fire racing in his veins, centered on where she’s touching him – her mouth on his, the teasing drag of her tongue against his, her hands clutching at him through the fabric of his shirt, the seductive brush of her chest against his where they’re breathing in sync with desperate breaths – and his heart feels like it’s on the verge of exploding with a happiness he’s never known before. He’s so in love with her, it almost hurts to try and contain it.

In a word, it’s perfect – _literally_ perfect.

Mike feels like he could do this forever, stand there and exchange heated kisses until neither of them can remember anything other than the feel of their mouths brushing against each other with increasing urgency, need building between them.

_(he can feel it, in the beat of his heart, in the sharpness of her breath between kisses and the drag of her lips against his, the passion that builds and, oh, does he want to succumb to the sweet promise of it. he wants to fall into everything she has to offer, wants to lose himself in the softness of her skin and the temptation of her mouth. his every sense is beguiled by **her** and he just **wants** more than he’s ever wanted in his entire life.) _

But, they can’t stand there forever and, slowly, their kisses come to a quiet end, though Mike’s not exactly sure if one of them or _both_ of them who decided to slow things down. It’s not the end of the world – Mike knows there’ll be time for more kissing later – and they _do_ need to talk. Or, rather, there’s more Mike wants to say, things he wants to ask El. The hard part is over, though. He’s already asked her out and she said yes and she’s letting him kiss her. But she pushed him to spilling everything and the selfish, needy part of him wants to hear her do the same.

When their kisses end, Mike doesn’t want to pull away, but he does just enough so he can look down at her.

And when he does, he almost can’t remember how to breathe. Because El is just so goddamn _beautiful,_ especially right now, looking completely and thoroughly kissed, with swollen lips and flushed cheeks and eyes that sparkle with an enchanting mix of affection and desire. _He_ did that – him, Mike Wheeler, king of the nerds, made the most beautiful woman he’s ever met look like she’s been kissed within an inch of her life and she looks _so very happy._

It’s too much and, overwhelmed, Mike finds himself leaning in once more so he can rest his forehead against hers, drawing comfort and strength from her presence, even it doesn’t help with how overwhelmed he in. Even better, he finds her leaning against him in return, the two of them supporting each other as the tectonic plates of their relationship resettle in a way that makes his soul sing. It feels like everything is finally as it should be and the knowledge of that sits all too well in Mike’s heart.

Mike feels his lips stretch up in a smile (he just can’t help himself, really – he’s way too happy right now to even try and hide it) and he holds her that much tighter. “Hi,” he breathes, opening eyes that slipped shut somewhere in the past handful of seconds to find that El’s done the same.

She opens them at the sound of his voice and Mike chokes back a gasp at the way she’s looking at him, her amber-flecked gaze sparkling with happiness. Mike can’t believe this is actually happening to him right now. “Hi,” she says right back, lips pulling up in a smile that makes Mike’s heart skip a beat in his chest.

“So, uh, this finally happened,” he says, eyebrow quirking just a little.

El lets out a giggle and, _god,_ does Mike love that sound. “Yes, yes it did.” She looks up at him with quiet regard for a long moment before she sighs, her smile dimming just a little. “I’m sorry it took so long. I’m sorry for everything that happened over this past week.” She gulps, looking nervous, but she doesn’t look away. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Mike breathes out a low laugh and shakes his head. It’s not important right now. Not anymore. “Don’t worry about.” He doesn’t want to dwell on the past.

“No, Mike. I need to apologize and you deserve to hear it. You deserve so much, Mike. Don’t ever let yourself think you don’t.”

Oh, isn’t that a good feeling, the way his heart swells in his chest, filling him with a warmth that almost brings tears to his eyes. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re amazing?” he says, almost breathless with awe.

The way El blushes at the compliment makes Mike want to give her nothing but that for the rest of his life, the sight of it so pretty and charming that it threatens to make him forget his own name. She ducks her gaze, just for a moment like she needs a little space to collect herself, and when she looks back, her eyes are shining. “I am not,” she says, a bashful smile curling up the ends of her beautiful lips.

“Hmm, agree to disagree,” Mike says with a low chuckle before he sighs. “And, if you’re sorry, then I’m sorry, too. We both did things we regret.”

“Maybe it’s true what they say, then, about how love makes you do stupid things,” El says, her blush deepening just that much more and she bites her lower lip, whether out of nervousness or excitement, Mike’s not too sure.

No, he’s too busy tripping over what she just said, running her words over and over again in his mind...or, rather, _one_ word. _Love._ He can’t contain the gasp that bubbles out of him and he feels his eyes widen as he stares down at her. “El, do you mean…?”

El smiles up at him, her lower lip sliding free from between her teeth, and she nods. “I love you, Mike. I think I have from the start. And maybe we went about this all out of order – maybe it’s not the best idea to fall in love with someone after moving in with them – but I think we would have always ended up here, like this. And I don’t want to have to hide how I feel anymore.”

Mike smiles, feeling way too giddy – of all the things he could have imagined, her telling him that she _loves_ him  was definitely not on that list. “Well, that’s good, because I don’t want to hide it anymore, either.” He pauses, shrugging almost nonchalantly (which is almost hilarious when he feels anything _but_ ). “I love you, too, in case you didn’t catch my meaning.”

At that, El lets out a bright laugh, smiling so wide it’s almost blinding. She’s bright and beautiful, standing there before him like she’s lighter than air, glowing and ethereal and making everything else seem dull by comparison. “Oh, I caught that,” El says. “I _definitely_ caught that.” She lifts a hand off of his torso and reaches up for him, her palm landing gently on his face as she cups his jaw. Mike shivers at her touch, sucking in a deep breath as her fingers lightly caress his skin, and he’s mesmerized by the awed look that takes over her features. “You’re way too attractive for your own good, did you know that?” she breathes.

Mike feels himself blushing and he has to look away, just for a second, as an overwhelming rush of emotion passes through him. No one’s _ever_ told him that before and Mike’s not entirely sure if he believes her. “Oh, come on, that’s not true,” he says. He lifts his gaze back up to meet hers, shaking his head the entire time.

El tilts her head and sighs. “Hmm, well you’re entitled to your opinion, even though it’s wrong,” she says, grinning. “I’ll just have to _show_ you, then.” She pulls him down towards her, stretching up on her toes so she can press her lips to his in a kiss that is so rich with emotion, Mike almost feels like he’s flying.

Love explodes along every fiber of his being as he kisses her back, pouring everything he is into the beautifully simple act of his lips against hers. The hand on his cheek slides along his skin until El’s arm is hooked around him to pull herself even closer and Mike knows then that there will never be anything as “too close” as far as El is concerned.

The kiss is over far too soon as El pulls back, grinning up at him. “So, since my night is suddenly free and it appears yours is too, I’m hoping it won’t be too presumptuous of me to assume we’re going to spend the rest of it together.” She blinks then, blushing as it hits her just _what_ she said and Mike finds himself chuckling, even as a frisson of desire ripples through him. “Um, I didn’t mean it like _that,_ ” she rushes to say. “Not that I don’t _want_ to – I _really_ want to, actually – it’s just...a little soon, maybe?”

Mike is still laughing a little as he leans forward and nuzzles his nose against hers. “I knew what you meant,” he says, trying to keep calm even as it’s just starting to hit him that she actually wants him like that, that someone so beautiful could look at him and see something desirable. “And, yes, you can safely assume my plans are your plans. I finally have you in my arms and I _don’t_ plan on letting you go any time soon.”

El smiles even wider and lets out another breathless giggle. “Oh, good.” She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Though, I’m hoping you’ll let me go for at least a little bit so I can go change. This dress is comfortable and all, all things considered, but not _that_ comfortable.”

Mike laughs. “You know, if this is your roundabout take on the phrase ‘slipping into something a little more comfortable’, I’m going to have to doubt your ‘too soon’ comment.” Mike knows he’s grinning like a fool, but he just doesn’t care.

Not even when El pulls back a little more and punches him lightly on the shoulder. “You _ass,_ ” she says before she sticks her tongue out at him. “I’m starting to reconsider how I spend the rest of my night.”

“Uh huh, _sure,_ ” Mike drawls. “Except that I have it on good authority that you’re in love with me, so I’m thinking that’s just one big lie.” He punctuates his point with another kiss and, _god,_ it’s never going to get old, being able to do this whenever he wants.

El leans up into the kiss and, when he pulls away, there’s a dreamy smile on her face that makes his heart feel full to the point of bursting. “Fine, you got me,” she says, smile taking on a teasing edge. “I _can_ go change, though, yeah? Or is that not allowed?”

Mike takes the opportunity to give her a quick look, gaze raking down the lines of her body as he drinks in the sight of her wearing that dress. “Yeah, you can go change, I _suppose,_ ” he says, grinning. “Though I _really_ like this dress.”

“Hmm, good thing I was kinda wearing it for you then, wasn’t I?” El says with a wink before she slips out of his arms. “Be right back.”

Mike watches her go, spellbound, unable to tear his gaze away from the gentle sway of her hips or the way her dress hugs close to her skin or how her hair falls gently across her shoulders and back. He keeps staring, even as she stops in the doorway to her room and turns to give him what he can only describe as a flirty smile, and it’s only once she’s disappeared inside her room that Mike feels like he’s back under some semblance of self-control. He doesn’t mind how she so easily ensnares him, though; he’ll willingly let himself be overwhelmed by her, now and forever.

He can’t help it. He just _loves_ her.

Unable to stop smiling, and completely unwilling to care about that, Mike turns away from his open door and looks back at his mess of a bed. Cringing, Mike takes a few minutes to straighten up and put some of his things away, only stopping when he hears El’s voice from behind him. “Aww, you’re cleaning for me?”

“No, I’m cleaning for _me,_ ” Mike says as he sets down a couple of books on his desk before turning around to look at El. His breath catches when he lays eyes on her and he’s struck by how she can make _anything_ look beautiful, from the fancy dress she was wearing just a few minutes ago to the pale purple, baseball jersey-style sleep shirt, with it’s ¾ length sleeves and thin cotton, and light gray sleep shorts she’s paired with it.

_(he tries really, **really** hard not to let his gaze drop down to her mostly bare legs, but it’s a futile effort and he knows from the way el smiles at him that she’s fully aware that he’s checking her out and that she doesn’t mind at all, so mike refuses to let himself feel bad since it seems like he’s **allowed** to stare, now.) _

El approaches him and Mike takes in the messy ponytail and skin scrubbed clean of makeup, amazed that this gorgeous creature wants to be with _him._

_How did he get so lucky?_

“Hmm, well, I still benefit from it, so I’ll keep thinking you’re doing it for me,” El says with a teasing grin.

“Uh huh, you just keep on doing that,” Mike says as he reaches for her. “Come here.”

“If you insist,” El says with a giggle, but she goes gladly into the circle of his arms, her own reaching up to clasp around his neck. “You’re too tall,” she says as she starts to lean up, stretching up onto her toes to pull him down for a kiss.

“Maybe you’re too short,” Mike teases right back as he wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up just slightly to help steady her against him.

“Nope, you’re definitely too tall,” El says right before their lips meet and, _oh,_ this is so good. Sure, Mike has to all but hover over her to maintain the kiss, but the way El arches into the lean of his body makes him relish in the challenge.

But, still, this isn’t exactly a tenable position. “Definitely easier to kiss you in heels while we’re standing, though,” Mike says after the kiss ends.

El smiles up at him. “Hmm, why do I think I’m going to be wearing a lot of heels from here on out?”

“It’s either that or we only kiss when we’re not standing,” Mike counters.

“Well, I don’t like the sound of _that,_ ” El says and she stretches up once more to brush a soft kiss across his lips.

“Hmm, well, we’ll figure it out as we go,” Mike says as he starts pulling El towards his bed. “Now, what say you we watch a movie? I’m sure we can find something.”

El grins, but she gladly goes all the same. “Hmm, is ‘watching a movie’ a euphemism for snuggling and making out? Because I could totally get on board with that.”

Mike lets out a scandalized gasp as he sits down on the bed, watching as El crawls onto the mattress next to him with one eye while he reaches for the TV remote on his nightstand. “Well, aren’t _you_ forward?” Mike teases while he settles back against the pillows.

El laughs and immediately snuggles up against Mike’s side, her body fitting all to well along the curve of his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder like it was always meant to be there. “You say that like you _don’t_ want to make out.”

 _Well, he’s not going to stand for **that**. _ Dropping the remote next to his leg, Mike leans over and captures El’s lips in a sudden kiss, his hand coming up to slide beneath the hair that’s contained by her ponytail. “Never said that,” Mike says a breath later, breaking the kiss just enough to whisper the words against her lips. At this point, the TV remote is all but forgotten.

“Hmm, maybe you should show me you mean it,” El says and Mike _feels_ her lips curl up in a coy smile while her hands come up to rest on his chest, her fingers curling gently into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Mike has to bite back the groan that builds in his chest and he feels light-headed from the way his heart is skipping in his chest. “Maybe I will,” he says before he kisses her once more.

Only, this time, he doesn’t stop – not for a while, at any rate. A couple of minutes in, El lightly tugs on him, pulling him so that they’re laying side by side, him partially splayed on top of her, their limbs gently entwined as they trade long, lingering kisses, completely unrushed as they have all the time in the world.

They do get around to watching TV at some point, but they keep getting distracted by each other and they spend at least half the night completely caught up in one another, all dizzying kisses and gentle touches – hands caressing necks and arms, fingers carding through hair, lips trailing kisses across cheeks and jaws and necks before meeting again, mouths pressed together in ways that make them breathless – love throughout every moment.

El eventually falls asleep next to him, curled up in his embrace and Mike doesn’t have the heart to wake her up. So he turns off the lights and shifts so that he’s holding her close, thrilled beyond measure that he can finally do this, that he doesn’t have to hold himself back anymore. He can feel her in his arms and love her and cherish her, all things he’s been dreaming about for months.

As he falls asleep, knowing that this is only the first night of countless ones with El in his arms, Mike realizes that he’s _never_ been happier.

And he knows he will _always_ stay this way.

 

* * *

  
**-Epilogue-**

_-A year and a half later-_

Mike wakes up to the sun shining bright in his face and he squints against the intrusion, confused. The sun doesn’t _usually_ come streaming in through his window – at least, not until way later in the morning.

Still a little foggy headed, Mike burrows himself into the warm mass in his arms, his face shielded by a thick cloud of hair. He smiles a little as he breathes in the faint scent of El’s shampoo and the way his heartbeat picks up in his chest helps clear the fog of sleep enough so he remembers _why_ the sun’s coming in through his window.

Because they’re not at the apartment anymore.

Because he and El have just moved in to their first _house._

Oh, sure, they’re still renting, not buying – they can’t afford that...at least, not _yet_ at any rate. But it’s still a house with a yard and a garage and rooms for them to have an office where he can write and a small library for their books and even a guest room for when people stay over. It’s a place they can continue to grow together, much as they have for the past year and a half.

And it’s been the best year and a half of Mike’s entire life. Sure, it hasn’t been easy – living with El as his girlfriend is different than as her friend and roommate, never mind actually having to deal with the fallout with him and his dad and his dad coming to terms with the fact that what's between Mike and El isn’t going anywhere.

But it’s been so _good_ regardless. Every day, he falls further and further in love with El. Every day, it feels like he finds something new or sees something about her in a different light and he knows he’s going to want to keep experiencing this for the rest of his life.

The smile on Mike’s face grows as he remembers the small container hidden in his nightstand drawer, one of the only things he made sure not to pack so that he could have it on hand for this very moment.

Mike opens his eyes, ignoring the sunlight so he can look at the woman he’s fallen in love with….

...The woman who, he hopes, is about to become his fiancee.

Mike’s heart skips a beat as he looks at her. El’s curled up on her side, facing him, her hair gone completely wild in sleep in a way he finds adorable (even if she thinks it looks hideous). She’s all fresh faced, skin flushed with sleep, her lips gently parted as she breathes slow and easy.

Mike reaches for her, one hand coming up to gently smooth her hair back so he can see more of her face, so it’s not quite so cloud-like where it’s spread across her pillow. He leans in, then, and presses a whisper-soft kiss to her forehead, grinning when he pulls back to see her face lightly scrunch up. But she doesn’t stir beyond that and Mike lets go of her enough so that he can turn. He reaches behind him, blindly fumbling a bit for the small container he left there, his fingers wrapping around it seconds later.

It’s not long until Mike’s pulling out an engagement ring, one he’s spent way too long picking out and spent way less money than she deserves buying. It’s still a pretty ring – a simple, square diamond in white gold – and Mike;s proud of what he picked out, even though he swears that, one day, he’ll have the money to get her something better.

But that’s neither here nor there for the moment and Mike focuses on the task at hand: slipping the ring on El’s finger without waking her up, a task that is easier said than done.

Why, yes, he is proposing to her while she’s sleeping.

_Shut up, it’s romantic._

It’s a little slow going, but Mike manages to get the ring on El’s finger with minimal fuss – her hand is curled up in sleep, but not so tight that he can’t loosen her fingers enough so he can slide the ring on. His breath catches in his chest at the sight of it on her finger and his throat feels suspiciously tight.

Mike takes in a deep breath so he can get a hold of himself as he waits for her to wake up. El’s not exactly a light sleeper and it can take her some time to wake up if there isn’t an alarm to help speed up the process. So he gladly lets his arm drape back over her waist, his hand slipping gently beneath the hem of the tank top she’s wearing to bed, and settles in for a while.

The entire time, Mike can’t keep his eyes off of El, can’t keep from drinking in the sight of the amazing, gorgeous woman who he gets to share his life with...who he’s almost 100% positive will agree to spend the rest of her life with him.

Nervousness and excitement play tug-of-war with his emotions and it’s all Mike can do to keep from vibrating through the mattress from it.

And just when he thinks he’s going to give up entirely and wake El up himself, his excitement just about too much to bear, El’s eyes slowly drift open.

Everything immediately goes still as Mike watches her wake up, completely and totally mesmerized by the way the light enters her eyes, the way awareness slowly seeps in. He could watch this every day for the rest of his life and never get bored.

Hopefully, he’ll get to do just that.

El smiles once she’s aware enough and the sight of it is so adorable, Mike’s heart almost implodes. “Mmm, morning,” she breathes, voice husky with sleep.

Mike reaches for her, hand coming out from underneath her tank top so he can slide his fingers into her hair, his thumb gently massaging her temple. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, a teasing smile on his face.

“Oh, hush, you,” El says and Mike can see the very beginnings of a yawn taking over her features. “When did you become such a morning person?” She yawns, then, and lifts her left hand to her mouth, palm facing out as she presses her fingers against her lips.

And Mike starts trembling from excitement. _Oh, she **has** to notice. _

She does and Mike knows it the second she gasps, yawn cut off mid-breath. Suddenly, El’s fully awake and she looks down at her hand, eyes wide, tears glossing over them as she takes in the sight of the ring on her finger. “Mike?” she asks, breathless hope in the simple utterance of his name, like she’s trying to make sure this is real, that he’s really doing this right now.

And he is – he _absolutely_ is. They’re going to spend the rest of their lives together and it starts right now.

If someone had told him almost two years ago, when he posted an ad on the internet for a roommate, that he would end up finding the love of his life, he would have said they were crazy, that it was fantasy born of the cheesiest of rom-coms.

But, now that he’s here, Mike can’t imagine it happening any other way.

Yeah, it’s official. Mike’s never going to stop smiling.

“El Hopper, love of my life. Will you marry me?”

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, with that, I've finished another fic! 
> 
> Really, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for all of you. You all make writing for this fandom an absolute joy and I adore each and every moment.
> 
> To that end, I'm going to be taking a little break - like, a week or two - to refresh and get my head on straight so I can plan my next fic.
> 
> I know exactly what it's going to be: a High School AU titled "Be Brave and Kiss the Girl". Hopefully I'll have the first chapter of that up somewhere in mid-March, but I'm not going to rush it. I did the math and I've written over 700k words for this fandom since November of 2017, which pretty consistently comes out to over 1.5k words a day _every day_. I feel like I'm entitled to a little break.
> 
> (Though, let's be real, here: it's going to be hard to stay away and you all know it. I'm too addicted to writing Mileven, you guys.)
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for reading to the end and I can't wait to see you for my next fic. And, in the mean time, come and bug me on tumblr! I go by the same username as here (so, fatechica) and I'd love for people to come and flail with me about Mileven or just ST in general!
> 
> Love you all!


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